V^' 


EUEOPEAN    MOEALS 

VOL.  IL 


HTSTOEY 


OF 


EUEOPEAN    MOEALS 


FROM  AUGUSTUS  TO  CHARLEMAGNE 


BY 


WILLIAM    EDWARD    HARTPOLE    LECKY,   M.A. 


THIRD     EDITION,     REVISED 


m    TWO    VOLUMES 
VOL.  II. 


NEW    YORK: 

D.     APPLETOX    AND    COMPANY, 

1890, 


V.^L 


CONTENTS 

CF 

THE     SECOND    VOLUME. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FKOM    CONSTANTXNK   TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


PAOC 


Difference  between  the  moral  teaching  of  a  philosophy  and 

that  of  a  religion 1 

Moral  efficacy  of  the  Christian  sen«e  of  sin         ....  3 

Dark  views  of  human  nature  not  common  in  the  early  Church  .  ft 

The  penitential  system   ........  6 

Admirable   efficacy  of  Christianity  in   eliciting  disinterested 

enthusiasm 8 

Great  purity  of  the  early  Christians 11 

The  promise  of  the  Church  for  many  centuries  falsified  .  .  12 
General  sketch  of  the  moral  condition  of  the  Byzantine  and 

Western  Empires 13 

The  question  to  be  examined  in  this  chapter  is,  the  cause  of 

this  comparative  failure 17 

FHrst  Consequence  of  Christiainty,  a  new  Sense  of  Ike  Sanctity  of 
Human  L\fe 
This  sense  only  very  gradually  acquired  .         .         .         .17 

Abortion. — Infanticide 20 

Care  of  exposed  children. — History  of  foundling  hospitals       .  3:2 


Vi  CONTENTS    OF 

PAQB 

•*  Suppression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows 34 

Aversion  to  capital  punishments 38 

Its  effect  upon  persecutions    .......  40 

Penal  code  not  lightened  by  Christianity 41 

Suicide 43-Gl 

Second   Consequerice  of  Christianity,  to  ieach    Universal  Brother- 
hood 

Laws  concerning  slavery    .....•••  62 
The  Church  discipline  and  services  brought  maater  and  slajw 

together .66 

Consecration  of  tlie  servile  virtues 68 

Impulse  given  to  manumission        .         .          ....  69 

Serfdom     .,....•••••  7^ 

Ransom  of  captives "2 

Charity. — Measures  of  the  Pagans  for  the  relief  of  the  poor    .  73 

Noble  enthusiasm  of  the  Christians  in  the  cause  of  cliarity     .  79 

Their  exertions  when  the  Empire  was  subverted          .         .     .  81 

Inadequate  place  given  to  this  movement  in  history         .         .  84 


The  Saints  of  the  Desert 

General  characteristics  of  their  legends       .         .         .         . 

Astounding  penances  attributed  to  the  saints 

Miseries  and  joys  of  tlie  hermit  life.  -  Dislike  to  knowledge 

Hallucinations 

The  relations  of  female  devotees  with  the  anchorites 


8o 
88 
90 
95 
96 


2'wo  Qualifications  to  our  Admiration  of  the  Charity  of  the  Church 
Theological  notions  concerning  insanity     .... 

Histoi^y  of  lunatic  asylums 

Indiscriminate  almsgiving.-  The  political  economy  of  charity 

Injudicious  charity  often  beneficial  to  the  donor 

History  of  the  modifications  of  the  old  views  about  charity 

Beneficial  effect  of  the  Church  in  supplying  pure  images  to  the 

imagination 99 

Summary  of  the  philanthropic  achievements  of  Christianity     .     100 

The  Growth  of  Asceticism 

Causes  of  the  ascetic  movement 101 

Its  rapid  extension  .         .  1 05 


107 
107 
113 
116 
120 


THE   SECOND    VOLUME.  VH 

PAvlB 

Celibacy  was  made  the  primal  virtue. — Effects  of  this  upon 
moral  teaching  ...,,,.. 

Gloomy  hue  imparted  to  religion         ..... 

Strong  assertion  of  freewill 

Depreciation  of  the  qualities  that  accompany  a  strong  physical 
temperament         ........ 

Destruction  of  the  domestic  virtues. — Inhumanity  of  saints  to 
their  relations 

Encouraged  by  leading  theologians 

Later  instances  of  the  same  kind    ..... 

Extreme  theological  animosity 

Decline  of  the  Civic  Virtues 

History  of  the  relations  of  Christianity  to  patriotism 
Influence  of  the  former  in  hastening  the  fall  of  the  Empire 
Permanent  difference  between  ancient  and  modern  societies  i 

the  matter  of  patriotism 

Influence  of  this  change  on  moral  philosophy 
Historians  exaggerate  the  importance  of  civic  virtues 

General  Moral  Condition  of  the  Byzantine  Empire 

Stress  laid  by  moralists  on  trivial  matters  .... 

Corruption  of  the  clergy 

Childishness  and  vice  of  the  populace          .... 
The  better  aspects  of  the  Empire 

Distinctive  Excellencies  of  the  Ascetic  Period 
Asceticism  the  great  school  of  self-sacrifice 
Moral  beauty  of  some  of  the  legends       .... 

Their  Tendency  to  produce  Humani/y  to  Animals 
Pagan  legends  of  the  intelligence  of  animals 

Legal  protection  of  animals 

Traces  of  humanity  to  animals  in  the  Roman  Empire . 
Taught  by  the  Pythagoreans  and  Plutarch 
The  first  influence  of  Christianity  not  favourable  to  it 
Legends  in  the  lives  of  the  saints  connected  with  animals 
Progress  in  modern  times  of  humanity  to  animals 

The  ascetic  movement  in  the  AVest  took  practical  forms  , 
Attitude  of  the  Church  to  the  barbarians. — Conversion  of  tho 
latter 


riii  CONTENTS   OF 

I'AQF. 

Christianity  adulterated  by  the  barbarians.— Legends  of  the 

conflict  between  the  old  gods  and  the  new  faith  .         .181 

Monachism  -e— 

Causes  of  its  attraction      . •  ^^3 

New  value  placed  on  obedience  and  humility. —Kesulti  of  this 

change ^^^ 

Belation  of  Monachism  to  the  Intellectual  Virtues 

Propriety  of  the  expression  '  intellectual  virtue' .         .         .     .  188 

The  love  of  abstract  truth 189 

The  notion  of  the  guilt  of  error,  considered  abstractedly,  absurd  1 90 

Some  error,  however,  due  to  indolence  or  voluntary  partiality  191 

And  some  to  the  unconscious  bias  of  a  corrupt  nature  .  .  192 
The  influence  of  scepticism  on  intellectual  progress  .  .193 
The  Church  always  recognised  the  tendency  of  character  to 

govern  opinion 

Total  destruction  of  religious  liberty 194 

The  Monasteries  the  Eeceptacles  of  Learning 

Preservation  of  classical  literature.— Manner  in  which  it  was 

regarded  by  the  Church 1  ^^ 

Charmof  monkish  scholarship 203 

The  monasteries  not  on  the  whole  favourable  to  knowledge  .  205 
They  were  rather  the  resei-voirs  than  the  creators  of  literature  .  208 
"fallacy  of  attributing  to  the  monasteries  the  genius  that  was 

displayed  in  theology 209 

Other  fallacies  concerning  the  services  of  the  monks        .         .     209 

Decline  of  the  love  of  truth 212 

Falue  which  the  monks  attached  to  pecuniary  compensations 

21 3 
for  crime 

Doctrine  of  future  torment  much  elaborated  as  a  means  of 

extorting  money 

Visions  of  hell ^20 

Peter  Lombard ^'^^ 

Extreme  superstincn  and  terrorism         .         .         .         •         •  228 

Purgatory ^^^, 

Moral  Condition  of  Western  Europe 

Scanty  historical  literature 236 

.           •  ''3(1 

Atrocious  crimes ■" 


THE   SECOND    VOLUME.  ix 

•  PAOB 

The  seventh  century  the  age  of  saints 239 

Manner  in  which  characters  were  estimated  illustrated  by  the 

account  of  Clevis  in  Gregory  of  Tours 240 

Benefits  conferred  by  the  monasteries      .....  243 

Missionary  labours 246 

Growth  of  a  Military  and  an  Aristocratic  Spirit 

Antipathy  of  the  early  Christians  to  milifairy  life    .         .         .  248 
The  belief  that  battle  was  the  special  sphere  of  Providential 

interposition  consecrated  it 249 

Military  habits  of  the  barbarians 250 

Military  triumphs  of  Mohammedanism 251 

Legends  protesting  against  military  Christianity      .         .         .  253 

Review  of  the  influence  of  Christianity  upon  war         .         .     .  254 

Consecration  of  Secular  Bank 

The  Pagan  Empire  became  continually  more  despotic      .         .  260 
The  early  Christians  taught  passive  obedience  in  temporal,  but 

independence  in  religious  matters 261 

After  Constantine,  their  policy  much  governed  by  their  interests  261 

Attitude  of  the  Church  towards  Julian       .         ...         .     .  262 

And  of  Gregory  the  Great  towards  Phocas      .         .         .         .263 

The  Eastern  clergy  soon  sank  into  submission  to  the  civil 

power 265 

Independence  of  the  Western  clerg)'. — Compact  of  Leo  and 

Pepin 266 

Effect  of  monachism  on  the  doctrine  of  jjassivo  obedience    .     .  269 

The  'benefices' 270 

Fascination  exercised  by  Chaylemagne  over  tiie  popular  imagi- 
nation .         .         .         .         .         .         ,         .         .         .     .  271 

A  king  and  a  warrior  became  the  ideal  of  greatness         .         .  273 

Corclusion         ••........  274 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    POSITION   OF   WOMEN. 

Importance  and  difficulties  of  this  branch  of  history       ,        ,    275 
Women  in  savage  life         ••...•,«    276 


CONTENTS   OF 


First  stage  of  progress  the  cessation  of  the  sale  of  wives. — • 
Rise  of  the  doMrry     ....... 

Second  stage  the  establishment  of  monogamy     . 

Women  in  the  poetic  ago  of  Greece  .... 

Women  in  the  historical  age  ranked  lower.  Difficulty  of  real 
isiag  the  Greek  feelings  on  the  subject .... 

Nature  of  the  problem  of  the  relations  of  the  sexes 

Recognition  in  Greece  of  two  distinct  orders  of  Tvomanhood 

Position  of  tlie  Greek  wives 


276 
278 
279 

281 
282 
286 

287 


The  Courtesans 

Elevated  by  the  worship  of  Aphrodite         .... 
And  by  the  aesthetic  enthusiasm      ..... 
And  by  tlie  unnatural  forms  Greek  vice  assumed 
General  estimate  of  Greek  public  opinion  concerning  women 

Roman  Public  Opi7iion  much  purer 

The  flamens  and  the  vestals        ...... 

Position  of  women  during  the  Republic  .... 

Dissolution  of  manners  at  the  close  of  the  Republic    . 
Indisposition  to  marriage        ...... 

Legal  emancipation  of  women     ...... 

Unbounded  liberty  of  divorce. — Its  consequences    . 
Amount  of  female  virtue  which  still  subsisted  in  Rome 
Legislative  measures  to  enforce  female  virtue 
Moralists  begin  to  enforce  the  reciprocity  of  obligation  in  mar 

riage 

And  to  censure  prostitution. — Growth  of  the  mystical  concep 
tion  of  chastity 


291 
292 
294 
295 


297 
298 
302 
304 
304 
306 
308 
312 

312 

316 


Christian  Influence 

Laws  of  the  Christian  emperors 316 

Effects  of  the  penitential  discipline,  and  of  the  examples  of  the 

martyrs    .         .         .         .         .         •         •         •         •         .817 

Legends     .         .         .         .         .         .         •         •         •         ..318 

Asceticism  greatly  dograde<l  marriage     .         .         .         .         .319 

Disapproval  of  second  marriages.— History  of  the  opinions  of 

Pagans  and  Christians  on  the  subject 324 

The  celiijacy  of  the  clergy. — History  and  effects  of  this  doc- 
trine           '         •     328 


THE   SECOND    VOLUME  X] 

TAGB 

Asceticism   produced   a  very  low   view  of  the   character   of 

■women. — Jewish  opinions  on  this  point          .          .         .     .  338 

The   canon    Liw   unfavourable   to    the    proprietary   rights    jf 

women      .                  ........  339 

The  barbarian    invasions    assisted  the    Church    in    purifying 

morals           ..........  340 

Barbarian  heroines          .         .         .         .         .         .         ,  341 

Long  continuance  of  polygamy  among  the  Kings  of  Gaul     .     .  343 

Laws  of  the  barbarians 344 

Strong  Christian  assertion  of  the  equality  of  obligation  in  mar- 
riage   .         ., •         .         .     .  3J5 

This  doctrine  has  not  retained  its  force  .....  346 

Condemnation  of  transitory  connections. — Roman  concubines  .  347 

A  religious  ceremony  slowly  made  an  essential  in  marriage      .  351 

Condemnation  of  divorce    ........  3.52 

Compulsory  marriage  abolished 353 

Condemnation   of  mixed  marringes.— Domestic    unhappinens 

caused  by  theologians  ........  35.1 

Htlation  of  Christianify  to  the  Feminine  Virtues 

Comparison  of  male  and  female  characteristics        .         .         .  358 
The  Pagan  ideal  essentially  masculine. -Its  contrast  to  tli>> 

Christian  ideal 3G1 

Conspicuous  part  of  women  in  the  early  Church      .         .         ,  303 

Deaconesses        ..........  365 

Widows          .         .         .         .         • 366 

Reverence  bestowed  on  the  Virgin 367 

At  the  Reformation  the  feminine  type  remained  with  Catho- 
licism         363 

The  conventual  system       .         , 369 

Conchision 370 


Index 373 


HISTOEY 


OP 


EUEOPEAN    MOEALS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FROM    CONSTANTINE   TO   CHAP.LEMAGNE. 

Having  in  the  last  chapter  given  a  brief,  but  I  trust  iiot 
altogether  indistinct,  account  of  the  causes  that  ensured  the 
triumph  of  Christianity  in  Rome,  and  of  the  character  of  the 
opposition  it  overcame,  I  proceed  to  examine  the  nature  of 
the  moral  ideal  the  new  religion  introduced,  and  also  the 
methods  by  which  it  attempted  to  realise  it.  And  at  the 
very  outset  of  this  enquiry  it  is  necessary  to  guard  against  a 
serious  error.  It  is  common  with  many  persons  to  establish 
a  compaiison  between  Chiistianity  and  Paganism,  by  placing 
the  teaching  of  the  Christians  in  juxtaposition  with  corre- 
sponding passages  from  the  writings  of  Marcus  Aurelius  or 
Seneca,  and  to  regard  the  superiority  of  the  Christian  over 
the  philosophical  teaching  as  a  complete  measure  of  the  moral 
advance  that  was  eflecteil  by  Christianity.  But  a  moment's 
reflection  is  sufficient  to  display  the  injustice  of  such  a  con- 
clusion. The  ethics  of  Paganism  were  part  of  a  pliilosophy. 
The  ethics  of  Christianity  were  part  of  a  religion.  The  first 
were  the  speculations  of  a  few  highly  cultivated  individuals, 


2  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

and  neither  had  nor  could  have  had  any  direct  influence  upon 
the  masses  of  mankind.     The  second  were  indissohibly  con- 
nected with  ^Jie  worship,  hopes,  and  fears  of  a  vast  rehgious 
system,  that  acts  at  least  as  powerfully  on  the  most  ignorant 
as  on  the  most  educated.    The  chief  objects  of  Pagan  religions 
were  to  foretell  the  future,  to  explain  the  universe,  to  avert 
calamity,  to  obtain  the  assistance  of  the  gods.  They  contained 
no  instruments  of  moral  teaching  analogous  to  our  institution 
of  preaching,  or  to  the  moral  prepai-ation  for  the  reception  of 
the  sacrament,  or  to  confession,  or  to  the  reading  of  the  Bible 
or  to  i-eligious  education,  or  to  united  prayer  for  spiritual 
benefits      To  make  men  virtuous  was  no  more  the  function 
of  the  priest  than  of  the  physician.     On  the  other  hand,  the 
philosophic   expositions  of   duty  were   wholly   unconnected 
with  the  religious  ceremonies  of  the  temple.     To  amalgamate 
these  two  spheres,  to  incorporate  moral  culture  with  religion, 
and  thus  to  enlist  in  behalf  of  the  former  that  desire  to  enter, 
by  means  of  ceremonial  observances,  into  direct  commumcation 
with  Heaven,  which  experience  has  shown  to  be  one  of  tlie 
most  universal  and  powerful  passions  of  mankind,  was  among 
the  most  important  achievements  of  Christianity.    Something 
had    no   doubt,  been  already  attempted   in  this   direction. 
Philosophy,  in  the  hands  of  the  rhetoricians,  had  become 
more  popular.      The  Pythagoreans  enjoined  religious  cei-e- 
raonies  for  the  purpose  of  purifying  the  mind,  and  expiatory 
lites  were  common,  especially  in  the  Oriental  religions.     But 
it  was  the  distinguishing  characteiistic  of  Christianity  that 
its  moral  influence  was  not  indirect,  casual,  remote,  or  spas- 
modic     Unlike  all  Pagan  religions,  it  ma<lc  moral  teaching  a 
main  function  of  its  clergy,  moral  discipline  the  leading  object 
of  its  services,  moral  dispositions  the  necessary  condition  of 
the  due  performance  of  its  rites.     By  the  pulpit,  by  its  cere- 
monies, by  all  the  agencies  of  power  it  possessed,  it  laboured 
Hystematicallv  and  porsoveriugly  for  the  regeneration  of  man- 
kind      Under  its  influnce,  doctrines  conccrmng  the  nature 


FROM   CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


3 


of  God,  the  immoi-tality  of  tlie  soul,  and  the  duties  of  man, 
which  the  noblest  intellects  of  antiquity  could  barely  gi'asp, 
have  become  the  truisms  of  the  village  school,  the  proverbs 
of  the  cottage  and  of  the  alley. 

But  neither  the  beauty  of  its  sacred  writings,  nor  the 
perfection  of  its  religious  services,  could  have  achieved  this 
great   result  without  the   introduction  of  new  motives   to 
virtue.     These  may  be  either  interested  or  disinterested,  and 
in  both  spheres  the  influence  of  Christianity  was  very  great. 
In  the  first,  it  effected  a  complete  revolution  by  its  teaching 
concerning  the  future  world  and  concerning  the  nature  of 
sin.     The  doctriue  of  a  future  life  was  far  too  vague  among 
the  Pagans  to  exercise  any  powerful  general  influence,  and 
among  the  philosophers  who  clung  to  it  most  ardently  it 
was  regarded  solely  in  the  light  of  a  consolation.    Christianity 
made  it  a  deterrent  influence  of  the  strongest   kind.      In 
addition  to  the  doctrines  of  eternal  suflering,  and  the  lost 
condition  of  the  human  race,  the  notion  of  a  minute  personal 
retribution  must  be  regarded  as  profoundly  original.     Thac 
the  commission  of  great  crimes,  or  the  omission  of  great 
duties,  may  be  expiated  hereafter,  was  indeed  an  idea  familiar 
to  the  Pagans,  though  it  exercised  little  influence  over  their 
lives,  and  seldom  or  never  produced,  even  in  the  case  of  the 
worst  criminals,  those  scenes  of  deathbed  repentance  which 
are  so  conspicuous  in  Chiistian  biogi-aphies.  ABut  the  Chris- 
tian notion  of  the  enormity  of  little  sins,  the  belief  that  all  the 
details  of  life  will  be  scrutinised  hereafter,  that  weaknesses 
of  character  and  petty  infractions  of  duty,  of  which  the 
historian  and  the  biographer  take  no  note,  which  have  no 
perceptible  influence  u2)on  society,  and  which  s<?ai-cely  elicit  a 
comment  among   mankind,  may   be  made   the  grounds  of 
eternal  condemnation  beyond  the  gi^ave,  was  altogether  un- 
known to  the  ancients,  and,  at  a  time  when  it  possessed  all 
the  freslmess  of  novelty,  it  was  well  fitted  to  transform  the 
cliara^ter.    'The  eye  of  the  Pagan  philosopher  was  ever  fixed 


I  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

upon  vii-tue,  the  eye  of  the  Christian  teacher  upon  sin'.     The 
ai-st  sought  to  amend  men  by  extolling  the  beauty  of  holi 
ness ;  the  second  by  a^vakening  the  sentiment  of  remorse. 
Each  method  had  its  excellences  and  its  defects.     Philosophy 
M-as  admirably  fitted  to  dignify  and  ennoble,  but  altogether 
impotent  to  regenerate,  mankind,  'it  did  much  to  encourage 
\-ii-tue,  but  Uttle  or  nothing  to  restrain  vicei    A  XS^  or 
taste  for  vii-tue  was  formed  and  cultivated,  which  attracted 
many  to  its  practice  j  but  in  this,  as  in  the  case  of  all  our 
other  higher  tastes,  a  nature  that  was  once  thoroughly  vitiated 
became  altogether  incapable  of  appreciating  it,  and  the  trans- 
f.jrmation  of  such  a  nature,  which  was  continuaUy  effected  by 
airistianity,  was  confessedly  beyond  the  power  of  phUosophy . ' 
Experience  has  a})undantly  shown  that  men  who  are  wholly 
insensible  to  the  beauty  and  dignity  of  virtue,  can  be  con- 
xxxhed  by  the  fear  of  judgment,  can  be  even  awakened  to 
such  a  genuine  remorse  for  sin  as  to  reverse  the  current  of 
their  dispositions,  detach   them  from   the  most  inveterate 
habits,  and  renew  the  whole  tenor  of  their  lives,  y 

But  the  habit  of  dilating  chiefly  on  the  darker  side  of  human 
nature,  while  it  has  contributed  much  to  the  regeneratmg 
efficacy  of  Christian  teaching,  has  not  been  without  its  disad- 
vantages.   Habitually  measuring  character  by  its  aberrations, 
theolo°-ians,in  their  estimates  of  those  strong  and  passionate 
nature°s  in  which  great  virtues  are  balanced  by  gi-eat  failings, 
have  usually  fallen  into  a  signal  injustice,  which  is  the  more 
inexcusable,  because  in  their  own  writings  the  Psalms  o 
David  are  a  conspicuous  proof  of  what  a  noble,  tender,  and 
passionate  nature  coidd  survive,  even  in  an  adulterer  and  a 
murderer.      Partly,   too,   through    this   babit   of  operaUng 
through  the  sense  of  sin,  and  partly  from  a  desn-e  to  show 
tl.at  man  is  in  an  abnormal  and  di.slocatcd  condition,  they 

.  Thero  is  a  rcn.arkablo  p.n^sago     dopravcl.  qJi^.l  by  Ori.^ou  in  his 
of  CelsuB,  on  tho  in.possibility  of    auswcr  to  hnu. 
restoring  a  nature  oaco  thorougbly 


FROM    CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  5 

have  continnally  propounded  distorted  and  degrading  views 
of  human  nature,  have  represented  it  as  altogether  under  the 
empire  of  evil,  and  have_sometimes  risen  to  such  a  height  of 
extravagance  as  to  pronounce  the  very  virtues  of  the  heathen 
to  be  of  the  nature  of  sin."  But  nothing  can  be  more  certain 
tlian  that  that  which  is  exceptional  and  distinctive  in  human 
nature  is  not  its  vice,  but  its  excellence.  It  is  not  the  sen- 
suality, cruelty,  selfishness,  passion,  or  envy,  which  are  all 
displayed  in  equal  or  greater  degi-ees  in  different  departments 
of  the  animal  world ;  it  is  that  moral  nature  which  enables 
man  apparently,  alone  of  all  created  beings,  to  classify  his 
emotions,  to  oppose  the  current  of  his  desires,  and  to  aspire 
after  moral  perfection.  Nor  is  it  less  certain  that  in  ciA'ilised, 
and  therefore  developed  man,  the  good  greatly  preponderates 
over  the  evil.  Benevolence  is  more  common  than  cruelty  ; 
the  sight  of  suffeiing  more  readily  produces  pity  than  joy  ; 
gratitude,  not  ingratitude,  is  the  normal  result  of  a  conferreil 
benefit.  The  sympathies  of  man  naturally  follow  heroism 
and  goodness,  and  vice  itself  is  usually  but  an  exaggeration 
or  distortion  of  tendencies  that  are  in  theii*  own  nature  per- 
fectly innocent. 

But  these  exaggerations  of  human  depravity,  which  have 
attained  their  extreme  limits  in  some  Protestant  sects,  do  not 
appear  in  the  Church  of  the  firet  three  centuries.  The  sense 
of  sin  was  not  yet  accompanied  by  a  denial  of  the  goodness 
that  exists  in  man.  Christianity  was  regarded  rather  as  a 
redemption  from  error  than  from  sin,'  and  it  is  a  significant 
fact  that  the  epithet  '  well  desei-ving,'  which  the  Pagans 
usually  put  upon  their  tombs,  w^as  also  the  favourite  inscrij)- 
tion  in  the  Christian  catacombs.  The  Pelagian  controvei-sy, 
the  teaching  of  St.  Augustine,  and  the  progress  of  asceticism, 
gindually  introduced  the  doctrine  of  the  utter  depravity  of 


'  This  is  well  shown  by  Presspnp^  in  his  Hist,  des  Trois  premicrt 
Stecles, 

33 


3  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

man,  which  has  proved  in  later  times  the  fertile  source  of 
(legi'-ading  superstition. 

In  sustaining  and  defining  the  notion  of  sin,  the  early 
C/hurch  employed  the  machinery  of  an  elaborate  legislation. 
Constant  communion  with  the  Church  was  I'egarded  as  of  tho 
very  highest  impoi-tance.  Participation  in  the  Sacrament 
was  believed  to  be  essential  to  eternal  life.  At  a  very 
early  period  it  was  given  to  infants,  and  already  in  the 
time  of  St.  Cyi:)rian  wo  find  the  practice  universal  in  the 
Church,  and  pronounced  by  at  least  some  of  the  Fathers  to 
be  ordinarily  necessary  to  their  salvation.'  Among  the  adults 
it  was  customary  to  receive  the  Sacrament  daily,  in  some 
churches  four  times  a  week.'-^  Even  in  the  days  of  persecution 
the  only  part  of  their  service  the  Christians  consent<;d  to  omit 
was  the  half-secular  agaj^e.^  The  clergy  had  power  to  accord 
or  withhold  access  to  the  ceremonies,  and  the  reverence  with 
which  they  were  regarded  was  so  great  that  they  were  able 
to  dictsite  their  own  conditions  of  communion. 

From  these  circumstances  there  very  naturally  arose  a 
vast  .system  of  moral  discipline.  It  was  always  acknowledged 
that  men  could  only  rightly  approach  the  sacred  table  in 
certain  moral  chspositions,  and  it  was  very  soon  added  that 
the  commis.sion  of  crimes  should  be  expiated  by  a  jieriod  of 
penance,  before  access  to  the  communion  was  gi-.intcd.     A 


'  Sco  Ji  groat  deal  of  in  forma-  of  tho  most  important,  of  tho  in- 

tion  on  tliis  subject  in  ]5ini2;liam'.s  stitutions    of    early    Cliristianity. 

Antiquities  of  the  Christian  Chwch  P>ingham  shows  tliat  tho  adminis- 

(Oxford,    1853),  vol.  v.    pp.    370-  tration  of  thf>  Kucharist  to  infant* 

878.     It  is  curious  tliat  tliose  very  continued  in  Franco  till  tho  twelfth 

noisy  contemporary   divines    "who  century. 

profess   to   resuscitate    tho    man-  ""  Soe  Ciivo's   Primitive    Chria- 

ners  of  tho  primitive  Church,  and  tianity,  part  i.  ch.  xi.     At  fir.st  the 

who   lav  so   much    stress   on    tho  Sacrament    Avas    usually   rocoiv.xl 

minut(!st   ceremonial    ohservances,  evcM-y  day  ;  but  this  custom  soon  de- 

havc  hjft  unpractised  what  was  un-  dined  in   tho  Kastern  Church,  and 

doubtodly  ono   of   tho    most    uni-  At  last  pjvssed  away  in  tho  Wesfc. 
vorsiil,  and  was  believed  to  be  ono  '  I'li".  I'-V-  ^-  '-^7. 


FROM   CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  7 

jiultitude  of  offences,  of  very  various  decrees  of  masnitude 
8uch  as  prolonged  abstinence  from  religious  services,  prenup- 
cial  unchastity,  prostitution,  adultery,  the  adoption  of  tlv>. 
profession  of  gladiator  or  actor,  idolatry,  the  betrayal  of 
Christians  to  persecutors,  and  paiderastia  or  unnatural  love, 
were  specified,  to  each  of  which  a  definite  spiiitual  penalty 
was  annexed.  The  lowest  penalty  consisted  of  deprivation  of 
the  Eucharist  for  a  few  weeks.  More  serious  offenders  were 
deprived  of  it  for  a  year,  or  for  ten  years,  or  until  the  hour 
of  death,  while  in  some  cases  the  sentence  amounted  to  the 
greater  excommunication,  or  the  deprivation  of  the  Eucharist 
for  ever.  During  the  period  of  penance  the  penitent  was 
compelled  to  abstain  from  the  marriage-bed,  and  from  all 
other  pleasures,  and  to  spend  his  time  chiefly  in  religious 
exercises.  Before  he  was  readmitted  to  communion,  he  was 
accustomed  publicly,  before  the  assembled  Christians,  to 
appear  clad  in  sackcloth,  with  ashes  strewn  upon  his  head, 
with  his  hair  shaven  off,  and  thus  to  throw  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  minister,  to  confess  a^oud  his  sins,  and  to  implore 
the  favour  of  absolution.  The  excommunicated  man  was  not 
only  cut  ofi'  for  ever  from  the  Christian  rites ;  he  was  severed 
also  from  all  intercourse  with  his  former  friends.  No  Chris- 
tian, on  pain  of  being  himself  excommunicated,  might  eat 
with  him  or  speak  with  him.  He  must  live  hated  and  alone 
in  this  world,  and  be  prepared  for  damnation  in  the  next.' 

This  system  of  legislation,  resting  upon  religious  terrorism, 
forms  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of  early  ecclesiastical 
history,  and  a  leading  object  of  the  Councils  was  to  develop 
or  modify  it.  Although  confession  wa-s  not  yet  an  habi- 
tual and  universally  obligatory  rite,  although  it  was  only 


'  The    "vv'liole    subject    of    tlio  printed   in   the  library  of  Anglo 

penitenti.al    diseiplino    is    treated  Catholic   Theology),    and   also    in 

minutely  in  MnrshnWs  Penifmdal  Binghiim,  vol.  vii.    Terfullian  givea 

Discipline  of  the  rrimitive  Church  a  graphic  dosoripfiun  of  the  public 

(first  published  in  1714.   and  re-  penances,  Z>e  P«(/(V(7.  v.  13. 


B  HISTORT    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

exacted  in  cases  of  notorious  sins,  it  is  manifest  that  we  hare 
in  this  system,  not  potentially  or  in  germ,  but  in  full  de- 
veloped   activity,    an   ecclesiastical   despotism   of  tlie   most 
ciushing  order.     But  althovigh  this  recognition  of  the  right 
of  the  clergy  to  withhold  from  men  what  was  believed  to 
be  essential  to  tteir  salvation,  laid  the  foundation  of  the 
worst  superstitions  of  Rome,  it  had,  on  the  other  hand,  a  very 
\'aluable  moral  effect.      Every  system  of  law  is  a  system  of 
education,  for  it  fixes  in  the  minds  of  men  certain  conceptions 
t>f  right  and  wrong,  and  of  the  proportionate  enormity  of 
different  crimes ;  and  no  legislation  was  enforced  with  more 
solemnity,  or  appealed  more  directly  to  the  religious  feelings, 
than  the  penitential  discipline  of  the  Church.     More  than, 
perhaps,  any  other  single  agency,  it  confirmed  that  conviction 
of  the  enormity  of  sin,  and  of  the  retribution  that  follows  it, 
which  was  one  of  the  two  great  levers  by  which  Christianity 
acted  upon  mankind. 

But  if  Christianity  was  remarkable  for  its  appeals  to  the 
selfish  or  interested  side  of  our  nature,  it  was  far  more  re- 
markable for  the  empire  it  attained  over  disinterested  enthu- 
siasm.    The  Platonist  exhorted  men   to  imitate  God;  the 
Stoic,  to  follow  reason;  the  Christian,  to  the  love  of  Chiist. 
The  later  Stoics  had  often  united  their  notions  of  excellerce 
in  an  ideal  sage,  andEpictetus  had  even  urged  his  disciples  to 
set  before  them  some  man  of  suqmssing  excellence,  and  to 
imagine  him   continually  near  them;  but  the  utmost  the 
Stoic  ideal  could  become  was  a  model  for  imitation,  and  the 
admiration  it  inspired  could  never  deepen  into  affection.     It 
was  i-cscrved  for  Christianity  to  present  to  the  world  an 
ideal  cliaracter,  which  through  all  the  changes  of  eighteen 
ccntuiios  has  inspired  the  hearts  of  men  with  an  impassioned 
love;  has  shown  itself  capable  of  acting  on  all  ages,  nations, 
temperaments,  and  conditions ;  has  been  not  only  the  highest 
patttra  of  virtue  but  the  strongest  incentive  to  its  j)racticc  ; 
and  has  exercised  so  deep  an  influence  that  it  mav  be  tnily 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  y 

Kaid  that  the  simple  record  of  three  short  yoai-s  of  active  life 
has  done  more  to  regenerate  and  to  soften  mankind  than  all 
the  disquisitions  of  philosophers,  and  all  the  exhortations  of 
moralists.  This  has  indeed  been  the  well-spring  of  whatever 
is  best  and  purest  in  the  Chiistian  life.  Amid  all  the  sins 
and  failings,  amid  all  the  priestcraft  and  persecution  and 
fanaticism  that  have  defaced  the  Church,  it  has  preserved,  in 
the  character  and  example  of  its  Founder,  an  endiu-ing 
principle  of  regeneration.  Perfect  love  knows  no  rights.  It 
creates  a  boundless,  uncalculating  self-abnegation  that  trans- 
forms the  character,  and  is  the  parent  of  every  vii'tue.  Side 
by  side  with  the  terrorism  and  the  supei-stitions  of  dogma- 
tism, there  have  ever  existed  in  Chiistianity  those  who 
would  echo  the  wish  of  St.  Theresa,  that  she  could  blot  out 
both  heaven  and  hell,  to  serve  God  for  Himself  alone ;  and 
the  power  of  the  love  of  Christ  has  been  displayed  alike  in  the 
most  heroic  pages  of  Christian  martyrdom,  in  the  most 
pathetic  pages  of  Christian  resignation,  in  the  tenderest  pages 
of  Chiistian  charity.  It  was  shown  by  the  martyi'S  who 
sank  beneath  the  fangs  of  wild  beasts,  extending  to  the  last 
moment  their  arms  in  the  form  of  the  cross  they  loved ; ' 
who  ordered  their  chains  to  be  buried  with  them  as  the 
insignia  of  their  warfai-e ;  ^  who  looked  with  joy  upon  their 
ghastly  wounds,  because  they  had  been  received  for  Christ;^ 
who  welcomed  death  as  the  bridegroom  welcomes  the  bride, 
because  it  would  bring  them  near  to  Him.  St.  Felicitas  was 
seized  with  the  jiangs  of  childbirth   as  she  lay  in   prison 

'  Eusebius.  H.  E.  viii.  7-  to  her  in  the  form  of  a  Christian 

'^  St.  Chrysostom   tells    this  of  physician,  and  offered  to  dress  her 

St.  Babylas.     See  Tilleniont,  iVt7«.  wounds;    but  she  refused,  saying 

pour  servir  a  SHist.  eccl.  tomo  iii.  that  siie  wis^hed  for  no  jihysician 

p.  403.  but  Christ,     ^t.  Potior,  in  the  cania 

'  In    the    preface    to    a    very  of  that  Celestial   Physician,  com- 

ancient  Milanese  missal  it  is  said  manded  her  wounds  to  close,  and 

of  St.  Agatha   that  as  she  lay  in  her  body  became  whole  as  before, 

the  prison  cell,  torn  l)y  the  iiistru-  (Tillemont,  tome  iii.  p.  412.) 
tnents  of  torture,  St.  Peter  came 


[.0  HISTORY    OF    EDKOPEAN    MOKALS. 

awaiting  the  hour  of  martyrdom,  and  as  her  sufferings  ex- 
torted from  her  a  cry,  one  who  stood  by  said,  '  If  you  now 
Buffer  so  much,  what  will  it  be  when  you  are  thrown  to  wild 
beasts  r  '  Wh^t  I  now  suffer,'  she  answered,  concerns  my- 
self alone ;  but  then  another  will  suffer  for  me,  for  I  will 
then  suffer  for  Him.'  ^  When  St.  Melania  had  lost  both  her 
husband  and  her  two  sons,  kneeling  by  the  bed  where  the 
remains  of  those  she  loved  were  laid,  the  childless  widow 
exclaimed,  'Lord,  I  shall  serve  Thee  more  humbly  and 
readily  for  beuig  eased  of  the  weight  Thou  hast  taken  from 
mo.'  2 

Chnstian  virtue  was  described  by  St.  Augustine  as  '  the 
order   of  love.' ^      Those  who   know  how   imperfectly  the 
simple  sense  of  duty  can  with  most  men  resist  the  energy  of 
the  passions ;  who  have  observed  how  barren  Mahommedan- 
ism  has  been  in  all  the  higher  and   more  tender  virtues, 
because  its  noble  morality  and  its  pure  theism  have  been 
united  with  no  living  example;  who,  above  all,  have  traced 
through  the  history  of  the  Christian  Church  the  influence  of 
the  love  of  Christ,  will  be  at  no  loss  to  estimate  the  value  of 
this  jjurest  and  most  distinctive  source  of  Christian  enthu- 
siasm.   In  one  respect  we  can  scarcely  realise  its  effects  upon 
the  early  Church.     The  sense  of  the  fixity  of  ua'ural  laws  is 
now  so  deejjly  implanted  in  the  minds  of  men,  that  no  tnily 
educated    person,  whatever   may  be  his  religious  opinions, 
seriously  believes  that  all  the   more   startling   i)hcnomena 
around  him— storms,  earthquakes,  invasions,  or  famines- 
are   results  of  isolated  acts  of  supernatural  power,  and  are 
intended  to  aflect  some  human  interest.      But  by  the  early 
Christians  all  these  things  were  directly  traced  to  the  Master 
they  so  dear'y  loved.     The  result  of  this  conviction  was  a 
Blate  of  feeling  we  can  now  barely  understand.  A  great  poet« 

•  Soo  her  acts  in  Ruinart.  tutis:  onlo  ebi    iinori.s.'— Z>«  C«ft 

»  St.  Jerome,  Ep.  xxxix.  Dei,  xv.  22. 

• 'Detiuilio  brevis  et   vera  vir- 


FROM   CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEM^.GNE.  11 

ill  lines  which  are  among  the  noblest  in  English  literature, 
has  spoken  of  one  who  had  died  as  united  to  the  all-pervad- 
ing soul  of  nature,  the  grandeur  and  the  tenderness,  the 
beauty  and  the  passion  of  his  being  blending  with  the  kindred 
elements  of  the  universe,  his  voice  heard  in  all  its  melodies, 
his  spirit  a  presence  to  be  felt  and  known,  a  part  of  the  one 
plastic  energy  that  permeates  and  animates  the  globe.  Some 
thing  of  tliis  kind,  but  of  a  far  more  vivid  and  real  character, 
was  the  belief  of  the  early  Christian  world.  The  universe, 
to  them,  was  transfigured  by  love.  All  its  phenomena,  all 
its  catastrophes,  were  read  in  a  new  light,  were  endued  with 
a  new  significance,  acquired  a  religious  sanctity.  ChristLinity 
offered  a  deeper  consolation  than  any  prosj^ect  of  endless  life, 
or  of  millennial  glories.  It  taught  the  weary,  the  soiTOwing. 
and  the  lonely,  to  look  up  to  heaven  and  to  say,  '  Thou, 
God,  carest  for  me.' 

It  is  not  surprising  that  a  religious  system  which  made 
it  a  main  object  to  inculcate  moral  excellence,  and  which  by 
its  doctrine  of  future  retribution,  by  its  oi-ganisation,  and  by 
its  capacity  of  producing  a  disinterested  enthusiasm,  acquired 
an  unexampled  supremacy  over  the  human  mind,  should 
have  raised  its  disciples  to  a  very  high  condition  of  sanctity. 
There  can,  indeed,  be  little  doubt  that,  for  nearly  two  hundred 
ycai-s  after  its  establishment  in  Europe,  the  Christian  com- 
miinity  exhibited  a  moral  purity  which,  if  it  has  been  equalled, 
lias  never  for  any  long  period  been  surpassed.  Completely 
separated  fi-om  the  Roman  world  that  was  around  them, 
abstaining  alike  from  political  life,  from  ai)penls  to  the  tri- 
bunals, and  from  military  occupations ;  looking  forward 
continually  to  tlie  immediate  advent  of  their  Master,  an.i 
the  destruction  of  the  Empiie  in  which  they  dwelt,  and  ani- 
mated by  all  the  fervour  of  a  young  religion,  the  Christians 
foimd  within  themselves  a  whole  order  of  ideas  and  feelings 
sufficiently  powerful  to  guard  them  from  the  contamination 
of  tlieii-  age.      In  theii-  general  beai-ing  towards  society,  and 


12  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

in  tlie  nature  and  minuteness  of  their  scruples,  they  pi-ob- 
ably  bore  a  gi-eater  resemblance  to  the  Quakers  than  to  any 
other  existing  sect.'  Some  serious  signs  of  moral  decadence 
might,  indeed,  be  detected  even  before  the  Decian  perseeutit^n  j 
and  it  was  obvious  that  the  triumph  of  the  Church,  by 
introducing  numerous  nominal  Christians  into  its  i^ale,  by 
exposing  it  to  the  temptations  of  wealth  and  prosperity,  and 
by  forcing  it  into  connection  with  secular  politics,  must  have 
damped  its  zeal  and  impaired  its  purity;  yet  few  persons,  I 
think,  who  had  contemplated  Christianity  as  it  existed  in 
the  first  three  centimes  would  have  imagined  it  possible  that 
it  should  completely  supersede  the  Pagan  worship  around  it; 
that  its  teachers  should  bend  the  mightiest  monarchs  to  their 
will,  and  stamp  their  influence  on  eveiy  page  of  legislation, 
and  direct  the  whole  course  of  civilisation  for  a  thousand 
years;  and  yet  that  the  period  in  which  they  were  so  supreme 
should  have  been  one  of  the  most  contemptible  in  history. 

The  leading  features  of  that  period  may  be  shortly  told. 
From  the  death  of  Marcus  Aurelius,  about  which  time  Chris- 
tianity assumed  an  important  influence  in  the  Roman  world, 
the  decadence  of  the  Empire  was  rapid  and  almost  uninter- 
rupted. The  first  Christian  emperor  transferred  his  capital  to 
a  new  city,  uncontaminated  by  the  traditions  and  the  glories 
of  Paganism;  and  he  there  founded  an  Empire  which  derived 
all  its  ethics  from  Christian  sources,  and  which  continiied  in 

1  Besides  the  obvious  points  of  TertuUian     {De     Corond)     about 

resemblance  in  the  com-noa,  thouf^^h  Christians  w.-aring  laurel  wreaths 

notuniversal,  belief  that  Christians  in  the  festivals,  because  laurel  ^as 

Bhould  abstain   from    all   weapons  called  alter  Daphne    the  lover  o 

and   from    all    oaths,    the    vholo  Apollo,  was  much  of  the  same  kud 

."ichinir   of   the  early   ('hristians  as  that  winch  led  the  Quake.^  t> 

about  the  duty  of  simplicity,  and  ren.se  to  speak  of  lue*  ay  or  Wed- 

the    wickedness   of   ornamer.ts   m  nesday   lest  they  should  reo  gn    e 

drcssfse.  especially  the   writings  the  gods  Tmsco  or  W.xlen     On  the 

of    Tertullian,    Clemens    Alexan-  other  hand    the   eccles.asUcal  as- 

drinuB    and    Chrysostom,  on  this  pectsand  the  sacramental  doctrines 

eubj"t).   is  exceJiingly   like   that  of  the   Chur.di   were  the  extreme 

of  the  Quaker?.     The  scruple  of  opposites  of  Quakerism. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  13 

existence  for  about  eleven  hundred  yeai-a.  Of  that  Byzantine 
Empire  the  univei-sal  verdict  of  history  is  that  it  constitutes, 
with  scarcely  an  exception,  the  most  thoroughly  base  and 
despicable  form  that  civilisation  lias  yet  assumed.  Though 
very  crue.  and  very  sensual,  there  have  been  times  when 
cruelty  assumed  more  ruthless,  and  sensuality  more  extrava- 
gant, aspects ;  but  there  has  been  no  other  enduiing  ci\-ilLs{i- 
tion  so  absolutely  destitute  of  all  the  forms  and  elements  o* 
greatness,  and  none  to  wliich  the  epithet  mean  may  be  so  em- 
phatically appUed.  The  Byzantine  Empire  was  pre-eminently 
the  age  of  treachery.  Its  vices  were  the  vices  of  men  who 
had  ceased  to  be  brave  without  learning  to  be  vii-tuous. 
Without  patriotism,  without  the  fruition  or  desii-e  of  liberty, 
after  the  first  paroxysms  of  religious  agitation,  without  genius 
or  intellectual  acti\dty ;  slaves,  and  willing  slaves,  in  both 
their  actions  and  their  thoughts,  immersed  in  sensuality  and 
in  the  most  frivolous  pleasures,  the  people  only  emerged  from 
their  listlessness  when  some  theological  subtilty,  or  some 
i-ivahy  in  the  cliaiiot  races,  stimulated  them  into  frantic 
riots.  They  exhibited  all  the  externals  of  advanced  civilisa- 
tion. They  possessed  knowledge ;  they  had  continually  before 
them  the  noble  literature  of  ancient  Greece,  instinct  with  the 
loftiest  heroism  ;  but  that  literature,  which  afterwards  did  so 
much  to  revivify  Europe,  could  tire  the  degenerate  Greeks 
with  no  spark  or  semblance  of  nobility.  The  history  of  the 
Empire  is  a  monotonous  story  of  the  intrigues  of  piiests, 
eunuchs,  and  women,  of  poisonings,  of  conspiracies,  of  uniform 
ingratitude,  of  perpetual  fratricides.  After  the  conversion  of 
Constantine  there  was  no  prince  in  any  section  of  the  Roman 
Emjiire  altogether  so  depraved,  or  at  least  so  shameless,  aa 
Nero  or  Heliogabahis  ;  but  the  Byzantine  Empire  can  show 
none  bejiriug  the  faintest  resemblance  to  Antonine  or  Marcua 
Aurelius,  while  the  nearest  approximation  to  that  character 
at  Rome  was  furnished  by  tho  Emperor  Julian,  who  con- 
temptuousiy  abandoned    the  Christian  faith.       At  last  the 


14  HISTORY    OF    EUEOPEAN    MORALS. 

Mahommedan  invasion  terminated  the  long  decrepitude  of 
the  Eastei-n  Empire.  Constantinople  sank  beneath  the  Cres- 
cent, its  inhabitants  wrangling  abont  theological  differences 
to  the  very  moment  of  theii"  fall. 

The  Asiatic  Churches  had  already  perished.  The  ChTistian 
faith,  planted  in  the  dissolute  cities  of  Asia  Minor,  had  pro- 
daced  many  fanatical  ascetics  and  a  few  illustrious  theologians, 
but  it  had  no  renovating  effect  upon  the  people  at  large.  It 
introduced  among  them  a  principle  of  interminable  and  im- 
placable dissension,  but  it  scarcely  tempered  in  any  appreci- 
able degree  their  luxury  or  their  sensuality.  The  fren/y  of 
pleasure  continued  unabated,  and  in  a  great  part  of  the 
Empire  it  seemed,  indeed,  only  to  have  attained  its  climax 
after  the  triumph  of  Christianity. 

The  condition  of  the  Western   Empire  was  somewhat 
different.     Not  quite  a  century  after  the  conversion  of  Con- 
stantine,  the  Imperial  city  was  captured  by  Alaric,  and  a 
lonf^  series  of  barbarian  invasions  at  last  dissolved  the  whole 
framework  of  Roman  society,  while  the  barbarians  them- 
selves,  having  adopted  the   Christian   faith   and  submitted 
absolutely  to  the  Christian  priests,   the  Church,  which  re- 
mained the  guardian  of  all  the  treasures  of  antiquity,  waa 
left  with  a  virgin  soil  to  realise  her  ideal  of  human  excellence. 
Nor  dill  she  fall  short  of  what  might  have  been  expected.     8he 
exercised  for  many  centuries  an  almost  absolute  empire  over 
the  thoughts  and  actions  of  mankind,  and  created  a  civilisa- 
tion which  was  permeated  in  eveiy  part  with  ecclesiastical 
influence.    And  the  dark  ages,  as  tlie  period  of  Catholic  ascen- 
dancy is  justly  called,  do  undoubtedly  display  many  features 
of  great  and  genuine  excellence.     In  active  benevolence,  in 
the  spirit  of  reverence,  in  loyalty,  in  co-operative  habits,  tliey 
far  transcend  the  noblest  ages  of  Pagan  antiquity,  while  in 
that  humanity  which  shrinks  from  the  inlliction  of  suffering, 
they  wftie  su))erior  to  lloinan,  and  in   tludr  respect  fur  clia.s- 
titj,to   Greek   civilisation.     On  the  other  hand,  they  rank 


FROM   CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  Ifl 

inimeasuraljly  below  the  best  Pagan  civilisations  in  civic  and 
patriotic  virtues,  in  the  love  of  liberty,  in  the  number  and 
splendour  of  the  great  characters  they  produced,  in  the  dig- 
nity and  beauty  of  the  type  of  charact'Cr  they  formed.  They 
had  their  full  shaie  of  tumult,  anarchy,  injustice,  and  war, 
and  they  should  probably  be  placed,  in  all  intellectual  viitues, 
lower  than  any  other  period  in  the  history  of  mankind.  A 
boundless  intolerance  of  all  divergence  of  opinion  was  united 
with  an  equally  boundless  toleration  of  all  falsehood  and  de- 
liberate fraud  that  could  favour  received  opinions.  Credulity 
being  taught  as  a  virtue,  and  all  conclusions  dictated  by 
authority,  a  deadly  torpor  sank  ujjon  the  human  mind,  which 
for  many  centuries  almost  suspended  its  action,  and  was  only 
effectually  broken  by  the  scrutinising,  innovating,  and  free- 
thinking  habits  that  accompanied  the  lise  of  the  industrial 
republics  in  Italy.  Few  men  who  are  not  either  priests  or 
monks  would  not  have  preferred  to  live  in  the  best  days  of  the 
Athenian  or  of  the  Roman  republics,  in  the  age  of  Augustus 
or  in  the  age  of  the  Antonines,  rather  than  in  any  pei-iod 
that  elapsed  between  the  tiiumph  of  Christianity  and  the 
fourteenth  century. 

It  is,  indeed,  difficult  to  conceive  any  clearer  proof  than 
was  furnished  by  the  history  of  the  twelve  hundred  years 
after  the  conversion  of  Constantine,  that  while  theology  has 
undoubtedly  inti'oduced  into  the  world  certain  elements  and 
principles  of  good,  scarcely  if  at  all  known  to  antiquity, 
while  its  value  as  a  tinctuie  or  modifying  influence  in  society 
can  hardly  be  oven-ated,  it  is  by  no  means  for  the  advantage 
of  mankind  that,  in  the  form  which  the  Greek  and  Catholic 
Churches  present,  it  should  become  a  controlling  arbiter  of 
civilisation.  It  is  often  said  that  the  Roman  world  before 
Constantine  wsis  in  a  period  of  rapid  decay ;  that  the  traditions 
and  vitality  of  half-suj) pressed  Paganism  account  for  many 
of  the  aberrations  of  later  times;  that  the  inlluoncc  of  the 
Church     was   often    rather    nominal   and    supei"ticial    than 


16  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

supreme ;  and  that,  in  judging  the  ignorance  of  the  dark  ages, 
we  must  make  large  allowance  for  the  dislocations  of  society 
by  the  tarbarians.     In  all  this  there  is  much   truth  ;  but 
when  we  remember  that  in  the  Byzantine  Empu-e  the  reno- 
vating power  of  theology  was  tried  in  a  new  capital  free  from 
Pagan  traditions,  and  for  more  than  one  thousand  years  un- 
subdued by  barbarians,  and  that  in  the  West  the  Church,  for 
at  least  seven  hundred  years  after  the  shocks  of  the  invasions 
had  subsided,  exercised  a  control  more  absolute  than  any 
other  moral  oi-  intellectual  agency  has  ever  attained,  it  will 
appear,  I   think,  that  the  experiment  was  very  sufficiently 
tried.     It  is  easy  to  make  a  catalogue  of  the  glaring  vices  of 
antiquity,  and  to  contrast  them  with  the  pure  moi-ality  of 
Christian  writings;  but,  if  we  desire  to  form  a  just  estimate 
of  the  realised  improvement,  we  must  compare  the  classical 
and  ecclesiastical  civilisations  as  wholes,  and  must  observe  ia 
each  case  not  only  the  vices  that  were  repressed,  but  also  the 
degree  and  variety  of  positive  excellence  attained.     In  the 
firet  two  centuries  of  the  Christian  Church  the  moral  eleva- 
tion was  extremely  high,  and  was  continually  appealed  to  as 
a  proof  of  the  divinity  of  the  creed.     In  the  century  before 
the   conversion   of  Constantine,   a   marked   depression   was 
already  manifest.     The  two  centm-ies  after  Constantine  are 
uniformly  represented  by  the  Fathers  as  a  period  of  general 
and  scandalous  vice.     The  ecclesiastical  civilisation  that  fol- 
lowed, though  not  without  its  distinctive  merits,  assuredly 
supplies  no  justification  of  the  common  boast  about  the  re- 
generation of  society  by  the  Church.     That  the  civilisation 
of  the  last  three  centuries  has  risen  in  most  respects  to  a 
higher  level  than  any  that  had  preceded  it,  I  at  least  firndy 
believe  ;  but  theological  ethics,  though  very  important,  form 
but  one  of  the  many  and  complex  elements  of  its  excellence. 
Mechanical  inventions,  the  habits  of  industrial  life,  the  dis- 
coveries of  i^hysical  .science,  the  improvements  of  government, 
the  expansion  of  literature,  the  traditions  of  Pagan  antiquitv. 


FROM   CONSTANTINE   TO    CHAKLEMAGNE.  17 

have  all  a  distinguislied  place,  while,  the  more  fully  its  his- 
tory is  investigated,  the  more  clearly  two  capital  truths  are 
disclosed.  The  first  is  that  the  influence  of  theology  having 
for  centuries  numbed  and  pai-alysed  the  whole  intellect  of 
Christian  Europe,  the  revival,  which  forms  the  starting-point 
of  our  modern  civilisation,  was  mainly  due  to  the  fact  that 
two  spheres  of  intellect  still  remained  uncontrolled  by  tho 
sceptre  of  Catholicism.  The  Pagan  literature  of  antiquity,  \ 
and  the  Mahommedan  schools  of  science,  were  the  chief  | 
agencies  in  resuscitating  the  dormant  energies  of  Chi-istendom. 
The  second  fact,  which  I  have  elsewhere  endeavoured  to 
establish  in  detail,  is  that  during  more  than  three  centuries 
the  decadence  of  theological  influence  has  been  one  of  the 
most  invariable  signs  and  measures  of  our  progress.  In 
medicine,  physical  science,  commercial  interests,  politics,  and 
even  ethics,  the  reformer  has  been  confronted  with  theological 
afiirmations  which  baiTed  his  way,  which  were  all  defended 
as  of  vital  importance,  and  were  all  in  turn  compelled  to 
\deld  before  the  secularising  influence  of  civilisation. 

We  have  here,  then,  a  problem  of  deep  interest  and  im- 
portance, which  I  propose  to  investigate  in  the  present  chapter. 
We  have  to  enquire  why  it  was  that  a  religion  which  was 
not  more  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  its  moral  teaching 
than  for  the  power  with  which  it  act«d  upon  mankind,  and 
which  durinsr  the  last  few  centuries  has  been  the  source  of 
countless  blessings  to  the  world,  should  have  proved  itself 
for  so  long  a  period,  and  under  such  a  variety  of  conditions, 
altogether  unable  to  regenei-ate  Europe.  The  question  is  not 
one  of  languid  or  imperfect  action,  but  of  conflicting  agencies. 
In  the  vast  and  complex  organism  of  Catholicity  there  were 
some  parts  which  acted  with  admirable  force  in  improving 
and  elevating  mankind.  There  were  others  which  had  a 
directly  opposite  efiect. 

The  first  aspect  in  which  Christianity  presented  itself  to 
the  world  was  as  a  declai-ation  of  the  fraternity  of  men  in 


18  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Christ.  Consiilered  as  immortal  beiugs,  destined  for  the 
■extremes  of  happiness  or  of  miseiy,  and  imited  to  one  another 
l>y  a  special  community  of  redemption,  the  first  and  most 
manifest  duty  of  a  ChrLstian  man  was  to  look  upon  his  fellow- 
men  as  sacred  beings,  and  from  this  notion  grew  up  the 
eminently  Christian  idea  of  the  sanctity  of  all  human  life. 
I  have  already  endeavoui-ed  to  show — and  the  fact  is  of  such 
capital  importance  in  meeting  the  common  objections  to  the 
reality  of  natural  moral  perceptions,  that  I  venture,  at  the 
risk  of  tediousness,  to  recur  to  it — that  nature  does  not  tell 
man  that  it  is  wrong  to  slay  without  provocation  his  fellow- 
men.  Not  to  dwell  upon  those  early  stages  of  barbarism  in 
which  the  hii^jher  faculties  of  human  nature  are  still  unde- 
veloped,  and  almost  in  the  condition  of  embryo,  it  is  an  his- 
torical fact  beyond  all  dispute,  that  refined,  and  even  moral 
societies  have  existed,  in  which  the  slaughter  of  men  of  some 
particular  class  or  nation  has  been  regarded  with  no  more 
compunction  than  the  slaughter  of  animals  in  the  chase.  The 
early  Greeks,  in  their  dealmgs  with  the  barbarians  ;  the 
Romans,  in  their  dealings  with  gladiators,  and  in  some  periods 
of  their  history,  with  slaves  ;  the  Spaniards,  in  their  dealings 
with  Indians;  nearly  all  colonists  removed  from  Europsan 
supervision,  in  their  dealings  with  an  inferior  race ;  an  im- 
mense proportion  of  the  nations  of  antiquity,  in  their  dealings 
with  new-born  infants,  display  this  complete  and  absolute 
callousness,  and  we  may  discover  traces  of  it  even  in  our 
own  islands  and  within  the  last  three  hundred  years.'  And 
difficult  as  it  may  be  to  realise  it  in  our  day,  when  the  atrocity 
of  all  wanton  slaughter  of  men  has  become  an  essential  part 
of  our  moral  feelinsrs,  it  is  nevertheless  an  incontestable  fact 


'  Sco  tho   masrerly  descriplion  Macaulny's  description  of  the  fcel- 

of  the  rolatioiw  of  the  English  to  iiif,'S(jf  tho  Miister of  SUiir towards 

the    Irish    in    tho  reign  of  Queen  the  Ilighhindcrs.   {Hidori/ of  Eng 

Eliz;i,beth,  in   Fronde's   Histori/  of  land,  eh.  xviii.) 
Kiigland,  ch   xxiv. ;  and  iilso  Lord 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  19 

that  this  callousness  has  been  continually  shown  by  good 
men,  by  men  who  in  all  other  respects  would  be  regarded  in 
any  age  as  consj)icuous  for  their  humanity.  In  the  days  of 
the  Tudors,  the  best  Englishmen  delighted  in  what  we  should 
now  deem  the  most  barbarous  sports,  and  it  is  absolutely 
certain  that  in  antiquity  men  of  genuine  humanity — tender 
relations,  loving  friends,  charitable  neighbours — men  in 
whose  eyes  the  murder  of  a  fellow-citizen  would  have  ap- 
peai-ed  as  atrocious  as  in  our  own,  attended,  instituted,  and 
applauded  gladiatorial  games,  or  counselled  without  a  scruple 
the  exposition  of  infants.  But  it  is,  as  I  conceive,  a  complete 
confusion  of  thought  to  imagine,  as  is  so  commonly  done, 
that  any  accumulation  of  facts  of  this  nature  throws  the 
smallest  doubt  upon  the  reality  of  innate  moral  perceptions. 
All  that  the  intuitive  moralist  asserts  is  that  we  know  by 
natui-e  that  there  is  a  distinction  between  humanity  and 
cruelty ;  that  the  first  belongs  to  the  higher  or  better  part 
of  our  nature,  and  that  it  is  our  duty  to  cultivate  it.  The 
standard  of  the  age,  which  is  itsslf  determined  by  the  genei-al 
condition  of  society,  constitutes  the  natural  line  of  duty ;  for 
he  who  falls  below  it  contz'ibutes  to  depress  it.  Now,  there 
is  no  fact  more  absolutely  certain  than  that  nations  and 
ages  which  have  (Utfered  most  widely  as  to  the  standard  have 
been  perfectly  unanimous  as  to  the  excellence  of  humanity. 
Plato,  who  recommended  infanticide ;  Cato,  Svho  sold  his 
aged  slaves ;  Pliny,  who  applauded  the  games  of  the  arena ; 
the  old  generals,  who  made  their  prisonei-s  slaves  or  gladia- 
tors, as  well  as  the  modern  generals,  who  refuse  to  impose 
upon  them  any  degi-ading  labour ;  the  old  legislators,  who 
filled  their  codes  with  sentences  of  tortiu-e,  mutilation,  and 
liidcous  forms  of  death,  ixs  well  as  the  modern  legis'atoi-s, 
who  ai-e  continually  seeking  to  abridge  the  punishment  of 
the  most  guilty;  the  old  disciplinaiian,  who  governed  by 
force,  as  well  as  the  modeni  instructor,  who  governs  l)y  sym- 
pathy; the  Spanish  girl,  whose  dark  eye  glows  Nvith  rai>tui'e 


20  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

as  slxe  watches  the  frantic  bull,  while  the  fire  streams  from 
the  explosive  dart  that  quivers  in  its  neck ;  as  well  as  th3 
reformers  we  sometimes  meet,  who  are  scandalised  by  all 
field  sports,  or  by  the  sacrifice  of  animal  life  for  food ;  or 
who  will  eat  only  the  larger  animals,  in  order  to  reduce  tho 
sacrifice  of  life  to  a  minimum  ;  or  who  are  continually  invent- 
ing new  methods  of  qidckening  animal  death— all  these 
persons,  widely  as  they  difier  in  theii-  acts  and  in  their  judg- 
ments of  what  things  should  be  called  '  brutal,'  and  of  what 
things  should  be  called  '  fantastic,'  agree  in  believing  human- 
ity to  be  better  than  cruelty,  and  in  attaching  a  definite 
condemnation  to  acts  that  fall  below  the  standard  of  their 
country  and  their  time.  Now,  it  was  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant services  of  Chiistianity,  that  besides  quickening  greatly 
our  benevolent  aflections  it  definitely  and  dogmatically  as- 
serted the  sinfulness  of  all  destruction  of  human  life  as  a 
matter  of  amusement,  or  of  simple  convenience,  and  thereby 
formed  a  new  standard  higher  than  any  which  then  existed 
in  the  world. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  in  this  respect  began  with 
the  very  earliest  stage  of  human  life.  The  practice  of  abor- 
tion was  one  to  which  few  persons  in  antiquity  attached  any 
deep  feeling  of  condemnation.  I  have  noticed  in  a  former 
chapter  tbat  the  physiological  theory  that  the  foetus  did  not 
become  a  living  creature  till  the  hour  of  birth,  had  some 
influence  on  the  judgments  passed  upon  this  practice;  and 
even  where  this  theory  was  not  generally  held,  it  is  easy  to 
account  for  the  prevalence  of  the  act.  The  death  of  an 
unborn  child  does  not  appeal  veiy  powei-fally  to  the  feeling 
of  compassion,  and  men  who  had  not  yet  attained  any  strong 
sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  who  believed  that  they 
might  regulate  their  cond\ict  on  these  mattei-s  by  utilitarian 
views,  according  to  the  general  interest  of  the  community, 
might  very  readily  conclude  that  tho  prevention  of  bii-th  waa 
in  'many  cases  an  act  of  mercy.     In  Greece,  Aristotle  nc* 


FROM   CONSTASTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  21 

only  countenanced  the  practice,  but  oven  desired  that  it 
6hould  be  enforced  by  law,  when  population  had  exceeded 
certain  assigned  limits. '  No  law  in  Greece,  or  in  the  Roman 
Republic,  or  during  the  gi'eater  part  of  the  Empire,  con- 
demned it ;  2  and  if,  as  has  been  thought,  some  measure  waa 
adopted  condemnatory  of  it  before  the  close  of  the  Pagan 
Empire,  that  measure  was  altogether  inopei-ative.  A  long 
chain  of  wi-iters,  both  Pagan  and  Chiistian,  represent  the 
practice  as  avowed  and  almost  universal.  They  descr'ibe  it 
as  resulting,  not  simply  from  licentiousness  or  from  po'verty, 
but  even  from  so  slight  a  motive  as  vanity,  which  made 
mothers  shrink  from  the  disfigurement  of  childbirth.  They 
speak  of  a  mother  who  had  never  destroyed  her  unborn  off- 
spring as  deserving  of  signal  praise,  and  they  assure  us  that 
the  frequency  of  the  ciime  was  such  that  it  gave  rise  to  a 
regular  profession.  At  the  same  time,  while  0%dd,  Seneca. 
Favorinus  the  Stoic  of  Aries,  Pkitarch,  and  Juvenal,  all 
speak  of  abortion  as  general  and  notorious,  they  all  speak  of 
it  as  unquestionably  ciiminal.^  It  was  probably  regarded  by 
the  avei-age  Romans  of  the  later  da}s  of  Paganism  much  as 


'  See  on  the  views  of  Aristotle,  A  niece  of  Domitian  is  said  to 

Labourt,  Rccherches  kisioriques  stir  have  died  in  consequeuce  of  having, 

Ics  Etifanstrouves (Pa.T\s,  IMS),  p.  9.  at  the  command  of  the  emperor, 

'^  See  Gravina,  De  Ortu  et  Pro-  practised  it  (Sueton.  Domit.  xxii.). 

gressu  Juris  C'ivUis,  lib.  i.  44.  Plutarch  notices  the  custom   {Be 

Sanitate  iucnda),  and  Seneca  eulo 
*  •  Nunc  uterum  vitiat  qiise  vult  gjses   Helvia  {Ad  Hclv.   xvi.)  for 
formosa  vide-i,  being  exempt  from  vanity  and  ha v- 
Raraque  in  hoc  svo  est,  quje  i„g   never   destroyed    her    uniwrn 
veht  esse  parens.'  offspring.    Favorinus,  in  a  remark- 
Ovid,  De  Xiicc,  ^2-23.  able  passage  (Aulus  Gellius,  Aoct. 
The    same    writer  has  devoted  ^"-   ^'i-    J),  spe.jks  of  the  act  as 
one   of  his  elegies  (ii.   14)  to  re-  '  l])'^>\'!'^  detestationo  commumqi.o 
proaching  his  mistress  Corinna  with  o;''o  lignum   and  proceeds  to  argue 
having  been  guilty  of  this  act.     ft  ^^f  j*^  '^  ""l^  *  *^^S^^^  ^^^^  "''"." 
was  not  without  danger,  and  Ovid  ";'!,  ^'^'^  mothers  to  put  out  thiir 
°  children   to   nurse.     Juvenal   h;i8 
some  well-known  and  emphatic  linos 
'Ssepe   suos  utero  quae  nee  it  on  the  subject : — 
ipsa  perit.' 

34 


ka/8. 


22  niSTOKY    OF    EUROrEAN    JI 01!  A 1/7. 

Englishmen  in  the  last  century  regarded  convivial  excesses,  as 
cei-ta'nly  ■\\-roiig,  but  so  venial  as  scai'cely  to  deserve  censure. 
The  language  of  the  Christians  from  the  very  beginning 
was  widely  different.  With  unwavering  consistency  and 
with  tbe  strongest  emphasis,  they  denounced  the  practice,  not 
simply  as  inhuman,  but  as  definitely  murdei-.  In  the  peni- 
tential discipline  of  the  Church,  abortion  was  p'aced  in  the 
same  category  as  infanticide,  and  the  stein  sentence  to 
wliich  the  guilty  person  was  subject  imprinted  on  the  minds 
of  Christians,  more  deeply  than  any  mere  exhortations,  a 
sense  of  the  enormity  of  the  crime.  Ey  the  Council  of 
A.ncyra  the  g^iilty  mother  was  excluded  from  the  Sacrament 
till  the  very  hour  of  death ;  and  though  this  yjenalty  was 
soon  reduced,  first  to  ten  and  afterwards  to  seven  yeai-s' 
penitence,'  the  ofience  still  ranked  amongst  the  gravest  in  the 
legislation  of  the  Church.  In  one  very  remarkable  way  the 
reforms  of  Christianity  in  this  sphere  were  powerfully  sus- 
tained by  a  doctrine  which  is  perhaps  the  most  revolting  in 
the  whole  theology  of  the  Fathers.  To  the  Pagans,  even 
when  condemning  abortion  and  infanticide,  these  crimes 
appeared  comparatively  tri^4al,  because  the  victims  seemed 
very  insignificant  and  their  sufferings  very  slight.  The 
death  of  an  adult  man  who  is  struck  down  in  the  midst  of 
his  enterprise  and  his  hopes,  who  is  united  by  ties  of  love  or 
ff  iendship  to  multitudes  around  him,  and  whose  depai-ture 
causes  a  periui-bation  and  a  pang  to  the  society  in  which  he 

'  Sed  jacct  aumto  vix  ulla  puerpera  Minucius   Felix  {Oclavins,   xxx.) : 

Iccto;  '  \'os  enim  video  priKTe;itos  filioa 

Tantum  artes  hujus,  tauluin  mcdi-  nunc    fcris    et     avibus    exponore, 

camina  possunt,  nunc  adstrangulatoa  niisero  mortis 

Quae  sterile  s  facit.atque  homines  in  genere  elidere.     Sunt  qure  in  iphis 

ventre  necandos  visceribus,   medioamiuilius   epotis 

Couducit.  originem  futuri  honiinis  extinguant, 

Sat.  vi.  592-j9o.  et   parricidiiini    I'aciant   anlcq-iam 
pariant.' 
There  are  also  many  allusions  '  See   I«il)ourt.  liccherchcx   tut 

to  it  in  th'j  Christian  writers.  Thus  Ics  Enfuns  trouves,  p.  26, 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  23 

has  moved,  excites  feelings  veiy  different  from  any  produced 
by  the  painless  extinction  of  a  new-born  infant,  which, 
having  scarcely  touched  the  earth,  has  known  none  of  its 
cares  and  very  little  of  its  love.  But  to  the  theologian  tliia 
infant  life  possessed  a  fearful  significance.  The  moment, 
Ihey  taught,  the  foetus  in  the  womb  acquired  animation,  it 
became  an  immortal  being,  destined,  even  if  it  died  unborn, 
to  be  i-aised  again  on  the  last  day,  responsible  for  the  sin  of 
Adam,  and  doomed,  if  it  perished  without  baptism,  to  bo 
excluded  for  ever  from  heaven  and  to  be  cast,  as  the  Greeks 
taught,  into  a  painless  and  joyless  limbo,  or,  as  the  Latins 
taught,  into  the  abyss  of  hell.  It  is  probably,  in  a  consider- 
able degree,  to  this  doctrine  that  we  owe  in  the  fii"st  instance 
the  healthy  sense  of  the  value  and  sanctity  of  infant  life 
which  so  broadly  cUstinguishes  Christian  from  Pagan  socie- 
ties, and  which  is  now  so  thoroughly  incorporated  with  our 
moral  feelings  as  to  be  independent  of  all  doctrinal  changes. 
That  which  appealed  so  powerfully  to  the  compassion  of  the 
early  and  mediaeval  Christians,  in  the  fate  of  the  murdered 
infants,  was  not  tliat  they  died,  but  that  they  commonly 
died  xmbaptised ;  and  the  criminality  of  abortion  was  im- 
measurably aggravated  when  it  was  believed  to  involve,  not 
only  the  extinction  of  a  transient  life,  but  also  the  damnation 
of  an  immortal  soul. '  In  the  *  Lives  of  the  Saints '  there  is 
a  curious  legend  of  a  man  who,  being  desii'ous  of  ascertaining 


'  Among   the    barbarian    laws  talis    hicem    minime    pervenisset, 

there  is  a  very  curious  one  about  parituc    poenani,  quia   sine   sacra- 

ft  dailf  compensation  for  children  mentore;j:encr:itionisabortivomodo 

who  had  been  killed  in  the  womb  tradita  est  ad  inferos.'  -Leges  Ba- 

on    account    of    the     daily     suf-  juvarioriim,    tit.    vii.    cap.  xx.    in 

fiTing   of  those   children    in  hell.  Canciani,   Leges  Barhar.  vol.  ii.  p. 

'P;optereadiuturnamjudicavcrunt  374.     Tlie  first  foundling  hospital 

antecessores  nostri  compositionem  of  which  wu  have  undoubted  record 

et  judices  postquam  religio  Chris-  is  th:il  f  mnded  at  Milan,  by  a  man 

tianitatis  inolevit  in  mundo.  Quia  named  Dathcus,  in  a.d.  789.  Alura- 

diuturnampostquamincamationem  tori    has   preserved    {Antich,    I/al. 

suscopit  auiina.  qaainvis  ad  nativi-  Diss,  xixvii.)  the  charter  cmbo«ly- 


24 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


the  condition  of  a  child  before  birth,  s^.ew  a  pregnant  woman, 
committing  thereby  a  double  murder,  that  of  the  mother  and 
of  the  child  in  her  womb.  Stung  by  remorse,  the  murderer 
fled  to  the  desert,  and  passed  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
constant  penance  and  prayer.  At  last,  after  many  years,  the 
voice  of  God  told  him  that  he  had  been  forgiven  the  murder 
of  the  woman.  But  yet  his  end  was  a  clouded  one.  He 
never  could  obtain  an  assurance  that  he  had  been  forgiven 
the  death  of  the  child.  ^ 

If  we  pass  to  the  next  stage  of  human  life,  that  of  the 
new-born  infant,  we  find  oui-selves  in  presence  of  that  prac- 
tice of  infanticide  which  was  one  of  the  deepest  stains  of  the 
ancient  civilisation.  The  natural  history  of  this  crime  is 
somewhat  peculiar.^  Among  savages,  whose  feelings  of 
compassion  are  very  faint,  and  whose  warlike  and  nomadic 


injT  the  motives  of  the  founder,  in 
■which  the  following  sentences  oc- 
cur :  '  Quia  frequenter  per  luxu- 
riiim  hominum  genus  decipitur,  ct 
exinde  malum  homicidii  generatur, 
dum  concipientes  ex  adulterio,  ne 
prodantur  in  publico,  fetos  teneros 
nccant ,  ct  absque  baptismatis  la  lacro 
pnrmdos  ad  Tartara  mittunt.  quia 
nullum  reperinnt  locum,  quo  ser- 
vnre  vivos  valeant,'  &c.  Henry 
II.  of  France,  1556,  made  a  long 
law  against  women  who, '  advenant 
e  temps  de  leur  part  et  deliATanco 
de  leur  enfant,  occultement  s'cn 
delivrent,  puis  le  suffoquont  et  au- 
trement  suppriment  sans  leur  avoir 
fait  empartir  le  Saint  Sacrcmeiit 
du  Baptcme' — Labourt,  Ecchcrchrs 
sur  les  Enfans  trouves,  p.  47-  There 
is  a  story  told  of  a  Queen  of  Portu- 
gal (sister  to  Henry  V.  of  England, 
and  mother  of  St.  Ferdinand)  tiiat, 
being  in  childbirth,  her  life  was 
despaired  of  unless  she  took  a 
modicine  whiih  would  accelerate 
the  birth  but  probably  sacrifice  the 


life  of  the  child.  She  answered 
that  'she  would  not  purchase  her 
temporal  life  liy  sacrificing  the 
eternal  salvation  of  her  son.'- — • 
Bollindists, ^c^;.  Sancior.,  .Tune 5th. 

'  TillemoDt,  Mimoires  pour  S(r- 
vir  a  I'Hlstoire  ecclesiast'ujite  (Paris, 
1701),  tome  X.  p.  41.  St.  Clem. 
Alcxand.  says  that  infants  in  the 
womb  and  exposed  infants  have 
guardian  angels  to  watch  over  them. 
(Sirom.  V.) 

-  There  is  an  extremely  large 
literature  devoted  to  the  subject 
of  infanticide,  expositi(m,  found- 
lings, &c.  The  books  I  have  chiefly 
followed  are  Terme  et  Monfalcoii, 
Histoire  dcs  Evfans  trouves  (Paris, 
1840);  Eemacle,  Bes  Hospice* 
d.  Enfans  frou ces  (1838);  Lal)ourt , 
Richerches  historiqrics  sur  les  Fhifant 
trouves  (Paris,  1848);  Kcenigswar- 
tcr,  Essai  sur  la  Legislation  des 
Fewples  anciensrt  modtrnes  relative 
mjxEnfans  nc.t  hors  Mariaffc{Piiv\a 
184'2V  There  are  also  many  de- 
tails on  the  subject  in  Godetroy'* 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


25 


habits  are  eminently  imfavonrable  to  infant  life,  it  is,  as 
might  be  expected,  the  usual  custom  for  the  parent  to  decide 
whether  he  desires  to  preserve  the  child  he  has  called  into 
existence,  and  if  he  does  not,  to  expose  or  slay  it.  In  nations 
that  have  passed  out  of  the  stage  of  barbarism,  but  are  still 
rude  and  simple  in  their  habits,  the  practice  of  infanticide  is 
usually  rare ;  but,  unlike  other  ciimes  of  violence,  it  is  not 
naturally  diminished  by  the  progi'ess  of  civilisation,  for,  after 
the  period  of  savage  life  is  passed,  its  prevalence  is  influenced 
much  more  by  the  sensuality  than  by  the  barbarity  of  a 
people.^  We  may  trace  too,  in  many  countries  and  ages,  the 
notion  that  children,  as  the  fruit,  representatives,  and  dearest 
possessions  of  their  parents,  are  acceptable  sacrifices  to  the 
gods.2    Infanticide,  as  is  well  known,  was  almost  universally 


Commentary  to  the  laws  about 
children  in  the  Theodosian  Code, 
in  Malthns,  On  Fopulation,  in 
Edward's  tract  On  the  State  of 
Slavery  in  the  Early  and  Middle 
Ages  of  Christianity,  and  in  n?.ost 
ecclesiastical  histories. 

'  It  must  not,  however,  be  in- 
ferred from  this  that  infanticide 
increases  in  direct  proportion  to 
'-he  unchastity  of  a  nation.  Prob- 
iibly  the  condition  of  civilised 
Bociety  in  which  it  is  most  com- 
mon, is  wliere  a  large  amount  (jf 
actual  unchastity  coexists  with 
very  strong  social  condemnation  of 
the  sinner,  and  where,  in  conse- 
quence, there  is  an  intense  anxiety 
to  conceal  the  fall.  A  recent  -s^-riter 
on  Spain  has  noticed  the  almost 
complete  absence  of  infanticide  in 
that  country,  and  has  ascribed  it 
to  the  great  leniency  of  public 
opinion  towards  female  frailty. 
Foundling  hospitals,  also,  greatly 
influence  the  history  of  infanticitlo ; 
but  the  mortality  in  them  was  long 
60  great  that  it  may  be  questioned 


whether  they  have  diminished  the 
number  of  the  deaths,  though  tht-y 
have,  as  I  believe,  greatly  dimi- 
nished the  number  of  the  murders 
of  children.  Lord  Karnes,  writing 
in  the  last  half  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  says  :  '  In  Wales,  even  at 
present,  and  in  the  Highlands  of 
Scotland,  it  is  scarce  a  disgrace 
for  a  young  woman  to  have  a  bas- 
tard. In  the  country  last  men- 
tioned, the  first  instance  known  of 
a  bastard  child  being  destroyed  by 
its  mother  through  shame  is  a  late 
one.  The  virtue  of  chastity  ap- 
pears to  be  thus  gaining  ground,  as 
the  only  temptation  a  woman  can 
have  to  destroy  her  child  is  to  con- 
ceal her  frailty.' — Sketches  of  the 
History  of  Man — On  the.  Proyress 
of  the  Female  Sex.  The  last  clause 
is  clearly  inaccurate,  but  there 
seems  reason  for  believing  tiiat 
maternal  affection  is  generally 
stronger  than  want,  but  weaket 
than  shame. 

*  See  Warburton's  Divine  Lega 
Hon,  vii.  2 


26  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

admitted  among  the  Greeks,  being  sanctioned,  and  in  some 
cases  enjoined,  upon  what  we  shoukl  now  call  '  the  gi-eatest 
happiaess  priaciple,'  by  the  ideal  legislations  of  Plato  and 
Aristotle,  and  by  the  actual  legislations  of  Lycurgus  and 
Solon.  Regarding  the  community  as  a  whole,  they  clearly 
saw  that  it  is  in  the  highest  degree  for  the  interest  of  society 
that  the  increase  of  population  should  be  very  jealously  re 
stricted,  and  that  the  State  should  be  as  far  as  possible  free 
from  helpless  and  unproductive  members ;  and  they  therefore 
concluded  that  the  painless  destruction  of  infant  life,  and 
especially  of  those  infants  who  were  so  deformed  or  diseased 
that  their  lives,  if  prolonged,  would  probably  have  been  a 
burden  to  themselves,  was  on  tho  whole  a  benefit.  The  very 
sensual  tone  of  Greek  life  rendered  the  modern  notion  of 
prolonged  continence  wholly  alien  to  their  thoughts ;  and  the 
extremely  low  social  and  intellectual  condition  of  Greek 
mothers,  who  exercised  no  appreciable  influence  over  the 
habits  of  thought  of  the  nation  should  also,  I  think,  be  taken 
into  account,  for  it  has  always  been  observed  that  mothers 
are  much  more  distinguished  than  fathers  for  their  affection 
for  infants  that  have  not  yet  manifested  the  fii-st  dawning  of 
reason.  Even  in  Greece,  however,  infanticide  and  exposition 
were  not  univei-sally  permitted.  Tn  Thebes  these  btfencea 
are  said  to  have  been  punished  by  death. ' 

The  power  of  life  and  death,  which  in  Home  was  oiigi- 
nally  conceded  to  the  father  over  his  children,  would  appear 
to  involve  an  unlimited  permission  of  infanticide ;  but  a  very 
old  law,  popularly  asciibed  to  Romulus,  in  this  respect  re- 
stricted the  parental  rights,  enjoining  the  father  to  bring  up 

'  JElian,  Varia  Hist.  ii.  7.  Pas-  notices  with  praise  ( (?^r»?rt»?a,  xix.) 

Bagcs  from   tho  Greek  irnapinativo  thiit  tho  Gi^niians  did  not  allow  in- 

writere,  rcpresentinp;  exposition  as  fantieido.     Ho  also    not i cos  (///.s^. 

the  avowed  and  habitual   practioo  v.  5)  tho  prohiKilion  of  infjinlieide 

cf  poor  parents,  are  collected  ]<y  arnonp:  tlio  .lews,  and  ascribes  it  to 

Ternie  et  Moufalcon,  IJist.  cirs  En-  theirdesire  to  increase  the  popnla- 

J'atis  trouvet,  pp.   39-4.5.     Tacitus  tion. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  27 

all  his  male  cliildren,  and  at  least  his  eldest  female  child, 
forbidding  him  to  destroy  any  well-formed  child  till  it  had 
completed  its  third  year,  when  the  affections  of  the  parent 
might  be  supposed  to  be  developed,  but  permitting  the  expo- 
sition of  deformed  or  maimed  children  with  the  consent  of 
their  five  nearest  relations.'  The  Roman  policy  was  always 
to  encourage,  while  the  Greek  policy  was  rather  to  restrain, 
population,  and  Lafanticide  never  ajjpears  to  have  been  com- 
mon in  Eome  till  the  coiTupt  and  sensual  days  of  the  Empire. 
The  legislators  then  absolutely  condemned  it,  and  it  wa.«i 
indirectly  discoui-aged  by  laws  which  accorded  sj^ecial  privi- 
leges to  the  fathers  of  many  children,  exempted  }X)or  parents 
from  most  of  the  burden  of  taxation,  and  in  some  degree 
provided  for  the  security  of  exposed  inftints.  Public  opinion 
probably  differed  little  fi-om  that  of  our  own  day  as  to  the 
fact,  though  it  differed  from  it  much  as  to  the  degree,  of  its 
criminality.  It  was,  as  will  be  remembered,  one  of  the 
charges  most  frequently  brought  against  the  Chi'istians,  and 
it  was  one  that  never  failed  to  arouse  popular  indignation. 
Pagan  and  Christian  authorities  are,  however,  united  in 
speaking  of  infanticide  as  a  crying  vice  of  the  Empire,  and 
Tertullian  observed  that  no  laws  were  more  easily  or  mor<j 
constantly  evaded  than  those  which  condemned  it.^  A  broad 
distinction  was  popularly  drawn  between  infanticide  and 
exposition.  The  latter,  though  probably  condemned,  was 
certainly  not   punished   by   law;^   it   was   practised   on    a 


'  Dion.  Halic.  ii.  controversy   lictwecn    two    Dutcli 

*  Ad  JS'ai.  i.  15.  professors,  named  Noodt  and  Hyti- 

*  The  well-known  jurisconsult  kcrsiioek,  conducted  on  both  sidi's 
Paulus  liad  laid  down  tlio  proposi-  with  great  learning,  and  on  the 
tion,  '  Neeare  videtur  non  t;iutuin  side  of  Noodt  with  great  passion. 
is  qui  partum  perfoeat  sed  ot  is  qui  Noixlt  maintained  that  tiieso  wori:8 
al)jicir  et  qui  alimonia  dencgat  et  are  simply  the  expressioj  of  a 
qui  publicis  locis  misericordi:e  moral  truth,  not  a  judicial  decision, 
rjiusa  expouitquam  ipso  non  habet.'  and  that  exposition  waa  never 
(Z>/g.  lib.xxv.  tit.  iii.  1.  4.)  These  illegal  in  Rome  till  some  time  after 
words  have  given  rise  to  a  famous  the  establishment  of  Christianity. 


28 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


gigantic  scale  and  with  absolute  impunity,  noticed  by  wi  iters 
with  the  most  frigid  ijidifference,  and,  at  least  in  the  case  of 
destitute  parents,  considered  a  very  venial  offence.'  Often, 
no  doubt,  the  exposed  children  perished,  but  more  frequently 
the  very  extent  of  the  practice  saved  the  lives  of  the  victims. 
They  were  brought  systematically  to  a  column  near  the  Vela- 
brum,  and  there  taken  by  speculators,  who  educated  them  aa 
slaves,  or  very  frequently  as  prostitutes.  ^ 

His  opponent  argued  that  exposi- 
tion was  legally  identical  with  in- 
fanticide, and  became,  therefore, 
illegal  when  the  power  of  life  and 
death  was  withdrawn  from  the 
father.  (See  the  works  of  Noodt 
(Cologne,  1763)  and  of  Bynkers- 
hoek  (Cologne,  1761).  It  was  at 
least  certain  that  exposition  was 
notorious  and  avowed,  and  the  law 
against  it,  if  it  existed,  inopera- 
tive. _  Gibbon  {Decline  and  Fall, 
eh.  xliv.)  thinks  the  law  censured 
but  did  not  punish  exposition. 
See,  too,  Troplong,  Influence  du 
Christianisme  surle  Droit,  p.  271. 
'  Quintilian  speaks  in  a  tone  of 

apology,  if  not  justification,  of  the 

exposition  of  the  children  of  desti- 
tute parents  {Decl.  cccvi.),  and  even 

Plutarch  speaks  of  it  witliout  cen- 

.sure.     {De  Amor.  I'rolis.)     There 

are  several  curious  illustrations  in 

Latin  literature   of  the  different 

feelings  of  fathers  and  mothers  on 

tliis   matter.       Terence   (Heaulon. 

Act.  iii.  Scene  5)representsChrenics 

as  having,  aa  a  matter  of  course, 

charged  his  pregnant  wife  to  have 

tier  child  killed  provided  it  was  a 

girl.      The  mother,    overcome    by 

jiity.  shrank  from   doing  so,  and 

fucTiiiiy  gave  it  to  an  old  woman 

to  expose  it,  in  hopes  thatitmiglit 

be  preserved.     Chremes,  on  hear- 
ing wha'  had  been  done,  reproached 

iii;-  wife  for  her  W(jmanly  pity,  auw 


told  her  she  li  id    been   not  only 
disobedient  but  irrational,  for  she 
was  only  consigning  her  daughter 
to   the   life   of    a   prgstitute.     In 
Apuleius  {Metam.  lib.  x.)  we  have  a 
similar  picture  of  a  father  stfirting 
for  a  journey,   leaving  his  wife  in 
childbirth,  and  giving  lier  his  part- 
ing command   to  kill  her  child  if  it 
should  bo  a  girl,  which  she  could 
not  bring  herself  to  do.     The  girl 
was  brought  up   secretly.     In  the 
case  of  weak  or  deformed  infants 
infanticide   seems    to    have    been 
habitual.     '  Portentosos  foetus  ex- 
tinguimus,  liberosquoque,sidebiles 
moustrosique  editi  sunt,  mergimus. 
Non  ir;i,  sod  ratio  est,  a  sanis  inu- 
tilia  secernere.' — Seneca,  De  Ira,  i. 
\'^.       Terence    has  introduced    a 
jiicturo  of  the  exposition  of  an  in- 
fant into  his  Andria,  Act.  iv.  Scene 
5.      See,  too.  Suet.   August,   Ixv. 
According  to  Suetonius  {Calig.  v.), 
on  tile  death  of  Gormanicus,  women 
exposed  tiicir  ncw-liorn  cluldren  in 
sign  of  grief.     Ovid  had  dwelt  with 
much  feeling  on  the  barbarity  of 
these   practices.       It    is    a    very 
curi(jus  fa<'t,  which   lias    been  no- 
ticed by  Warburtoii,  that  ChreuKs, 
whose  sentiments  about  infants  we 
h.ive  just  seen,  is  the  very  personjige 
into  whose  mouth  Terence  has  put 
the  famous  sentiment, '  Homo  sura, 
humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto.' 
-  Tliat    these    were    tlio    usual 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  29 

On  the  whole,  what  was  demanded  on  this  subject  was 
aot  any  clearer  moral  teaching,  but  rather  a  stronger  enforce- 
ment of  the  condemnation  long  since  passed  upon  infanticide, 
and  an  increased  protection  for  exposed  infants.  By  the 
penitential  sentences,  by  the  dogmatic  considerations  I  have 
enumerated,  and  by  the  earnest  exhortations  both  of  her 
preachers  and  writers,  the  Church  laboured  to  deepen  the 
sense  of  the  enormity  of  the  act,  and  especially  to  convince 
men  that  the  guilt  of  abandoning  theii-  children  to  the  pre- 
carious and  doubtful  mercy  of  the  stranger  was  scarcely 
less  than  that  of  simple  infanticide.^  In  the  civil  law  her 
influence  was  also  displayed,  though  not,  I  think,  very 
advantageously.  By  the  counsel,  it  is  said,  of  Lactantius, 
Constantine,  in  the  very  year  of  his  conversion,  in  order  to 
diminish  infanticide  by  destitute  parents,  issued  a  decree, 
applicable  in  the  first  instance  to  Italy,  but  extended  in  a.d. 
322  to  Africa,  in  which  he  commanded  that  those  children 
whom  their  parents  were  unable  to  support  should  be  clothed 
and  fed  at  the  expense  of  the  State,^  a  policy  which  had  ah-eady 
been  pursued  on  a  large  scale  under  the  Antonines.  In  a.d. 
331,  a  law  intended  to  multiply  the  chances  of  the  exposed 
child  being  taken  charge  of  by  some  charitable  or  interested 
person,  provided,  that  the  foundling  should  remain  the  alxso- 
lute  property  of  its  saviour,  whether  he  adopted  it  as  a  son 

fates  of  exposed  infants  is  noticed  extremely  horrible  declamation  in 

by   several    writers.      Some,    too,  Senecathe  Ehotorician  (Cow^rocer*-. 

both  Pagan  and  Christian  (Quin-  lib.  v.  33)  about  exposed  chiltlren 

tilian;  Dccl.  cccvi. ;  Lactantius,  Biv.  who  -were  said  to  have  been  maimed 

Inst.  vi.  20,  &c.),  speak  of  the  lia-  and  nuUilated,  either    to  prevent 

bility  to  incestuous  marriages  re-  their  recognition  by  tjieir  parents, 

suiting  from   frequent   exposition,  or  that  they  might  gain  money  as 

In    the    Greek    poets    there    are  beggars  for  their  masters, 

several  allusions  to  rich  childless  '  See    passages    on    this   point 

men  adopting  foundlings,  and  Ju-  cited  by  Godefroy  in  his  Commer)' 

venal    says    it  was    common    for  iart/io  theLaw'DeExposilia,' Codcj 

Roman  wives  to  palm  off  found-  Theod.  lib.  v.  tit.  7. 

lings  on  their  husbands  for  their  *  Codex     Thcod.    lib.    li.    tit, 

sons.     (^Sat.  vi.  603.)     There  is  an  27. 


30  HISTORY   OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

or  employed  it  as  a  slave,  and  that  the  parent  should  not 
have  power  at  any  future  time  to  reclaim  it.^  By  another 
law,  which  had  been  issued  in  a.d.  329,  it  had  been  pro- 
vided that  children  who  had  been,  not  exposed,  but  sold, 
might  be  reclaimed  upon  payment  by  the  father.^ 

The  last  two  laws  cannot  be  regarded  with  unmiaglel 
satisfaction.  The  law  regulating  the  condition  of  exposed  chil- 
dren, though  undoubtedly  enacted  with  the  most  benevolent 
intentions,  was  in  some  degree  a  retrograde  step,  the  Pagan 
laws  having  provided  that  the  father  might  always  withdraw 
the  child  he  had  exposed,  from  servitude,  by  payment  of  the 
expenses  incurred  in  supporting  it,^  while  Trajan  had  even 
decided  that  the  exposed  child  could  not  become  under  any 
circumstance  a  slave."*  The  law  of  Constantine,  on  the  other 
hand,  doomed  it  to  an  iiTevocable  servitude ;  and  this  law 
continued  in  force  till  A.D.  529,  when  Justinian,  reverting  to 
the  principle  of  Trajan,  decreed  that  not  only  the  father  lost 
all  legitimate  authority  over  his  child  by  exposing  it,  but 
also  that  the  person  who  had  saved  it  could  not  by  that  act 
deprive  it  of  its  natiu-al  lilx^rty.  But  this  law  applied  only 
to  the  Eastern  Empire ;  and  in  part  at  least  of  the  West  •"' 
the  servitude  of  exposed  infants  continued  for  centui'ies,  and 
appears  only  to  have  terminated  with  the  general  extinction 
of  slavery  in  Eiu'ope.  The  law  of  Constantine  concerning 
the  sale  of  children  was  also  a  step,  though  perhaps  a  neces- 
sary step,  of  retrogression.  A  series  of  emi)erors,  among 
whom  Caracalla  was  conspicuous,  had  denounced  and  en- 
deavoured to  abolish,  as '  shameful,'  the  traffic  in  free  childi-en, 
and  Diocletian  had  expressly  and  absolutely  condemned  it.^ 


'  Codex  Thcud.   lib.   v.   tit.    7,  {Kp.  x.  72.) 
Ilx.  1.  *  Soo  on  this  point  Jluratori, 

^  Viid.  HI).  V.  tit.  8,  lex  1.  An/ick.  Ital.  Diss,  x.xxv". 

»  Seo   Godefroy's    C'>mmentary  *  Soo   on   those   hiws,  Wallon, 

to  the  Law.  Hist,  dc  I' Esc'avage,  tome  iii.  pp. 

*  In  a  letter  tot  lie  you  ngpr  Pliny.  52,  53. 


FROM    COXSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  31 

rhe  extreme  misery,  however,  resulting  from  the  civil  wars 
under  Constantine,  had  rendered  it  necessary  to  authoinsf! 
the  old  practice  of  selling  children  in  the  case  of  absolute 
destitution,  which,  though  it  had  been  condemned,  had  prob- 
ably never  altogether  ceased.  Theodosius  the  Great  at- 
tempted to  take  a  step  in  advance,  by  decreeing  that  the 
chUdi-en  thus  sold  might  regain  their  freedom  without  the 
repayment  of  the  purchase-money,  a  temporary  service  being 
a  sufficient  compensation  for  the  ptuchase;  '  but  this  measure 
was  repealed  by  Valentinian  III.  The  sale  of  children  in 
case  of  great  necessity,  though  denounced  by  the  Fathers,* 
continued  long  after  the  time  of  Theodosius,  nor  does  any 
Christian  emperor  apjiear  to  have  enforced  the  humane 
enactment  of  Diocletian. 

Together  with  these  measures  for  the  protection  of  ex- 
posed children,  there  were  laws  directly  condemnatory  of 
infanticide.  This  branch  of  the  subject  is  obscured  by  much 
ambiguity  and  controversy;  but  it  appears  most  probable 
that  the  Pagan  legislation  reckoned  infanticide  as  a  form  of 
homicide,  though,  being  deemed  less  atrocious  than  other 
foi'ms  of  homicide,  it  was  punished,  not  by  death,  l)ut  by 
banishment.^  A  law  of  Constantine,  intended  principally, 
and  perhaps  exclusively,  for  Africa,  where  the  sacrifices  of 
children  to  Saturn  were  very  common,  assimilated  to  parric'de 
the  mui'der  of  a  child  by  its  father ;  *  and  finally,  Valentinian, 
in   A.D.   374,   made  all  infanticide  a   capital  oflence,*    and 


•  See  Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  iii.  tit.  3,  crime,  but  :i  crime  genericallj  dif- 

lex  1,  and  the  Commentiiry.  I'erciit   from   liomicide.     Godefiroy 

^  On  the  very  pursif-tent  denun-  iiiaintains  tluit  it  was  classified  as 

ciation   of    this    practice    by    the  liomicide,  but  that,  being  esteemed 

Fathers,    see    many    examples    in  less  lieinous  tlian  the  other  forms 

I'erme  ct  Monfaleon.  of  homicide,  it  was  only  punished 

■  This   is   a   mere   question   of  by  exile.     See  the  Commentary  to 

iefinition,  upon  which  lawyers  have  Cod    Thcod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  14,  1.  1. 
expended  much  learning  and  dis-  ■*  Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  15. 

cussion.     Cnjas  thought  the   Ko-  '  Ihid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  H,  lex  1. 

mans     considered     infanticide     a 


32  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

especially  enjoined  the  punishment  of  exposition.'  A  law  of 
the  Spanish  Visigoths,  in  the  seventh  century,  punished  in- 
fanticide and  abortion  with  death  or  blindness.  ^  In  the 
Capitularies  of  Charlemagne  tlie  former  crime  was  punished 
as  homicide.^ 

It  is  not  possible  to  ascertain,  with  any  degree  of  accuracv, 
what  diminution  of  infanticide  resulted  from  these  measures. 
It  may,  however,  be  safely  asserted  that  the  publicity  of  the 
trade  in  exposed  children  became  impossible  under  the  influ- 
ence of  Christianity,  and  that  the  sense  of  the  serious  nature 
of  the  crime  was  very  considerably  increased.  The  extreme 
destitution,  which  was  one  of  its  most  fertile  causes,  was  met 
by  Christian  charity.  Many  exposed  children  appear  to 
have  been  educated  by  individual  Christians.''  Brephotrophia 
and  Orphanotrophia  are  among  the  earliest  recorded  charita- 
ble institutions  of  the  Chvirch ;  but  it  is  not  certain  that 
exposed  children  were  admitted  into  them,  and  we  find  no 
trace  for  several  centuiies  of  Christian  foundling  hospitals. 
This  form  of  charity  grew  up  gradually  in  the  early  part  of 
the  middle  ages.  It  is  said  that  one  existed  at  Treves  in  the 
sixth,  and  at  Angers  in  the  seventh  century,  and  it  is  certain 
that  one  existed  at  Milan  in  the  eighth  century.*  The 
Council  of  Rouen,  in  the  ninth  century,  invited  women  who 
had  secretly  borne  children  to  place  them  at  the  door  of  the 
church,  and  vmdertook  to  provide  for  them  if  they  were  not 
reclaimed.     It  is  probable  that  they  were  brought  up  amon» 

'  Corp.  Juris,  lib.  viii.  tit.  62,  exposed  children  and  to  have  them 

lex  2.  brought    into    the    church.       Sue 

« Leges   Wisignthonim  (lib.  vi.  Tcrme    et    Monfalcon,    Hist,    des 

tit.  3,  lex  7)  and  other  laws  (Ub.  En/cms  trouves,  p.  74. 
iv.  tit.  4)  condemned  exposition.  »  Compare  Libourt,   licc/i.  sur 

'  '  Si    quis   infantem    necaverit  lea    Knfinis     trouves,    pp.    32,  33  • 

nt  honiicida  teneatur.' — Capit.  vii.  JMuratori,  Aniichita  Italianc,  Dis' 

1<58.  sert.   xxxvii.     Muratori    has    also 

*  It  appears,  from  a  passage  of  briefly  noticetl  the  history  of  those 

St.  Augustine,  that  Christian  vir-  charities  in  his  Carita  ChrisHana^ 

gins   M'ore  accustomed    to   collect  cap.  xxvii. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  33 

the  numerous  slaves  or  serfs  attached  to  the  ecclesiastical 
properties ;  for  a  deci-ee  of  the  Council  of  Aries,  in  the  fifth 
century,  and  afterwards  a  law  of  Charlemagne,  had  echoed 
the  enactment  of  Constantino,  declaring  that  exposed  children 
6.hould  be  the  slaves  of  their  protectors.  As  slavery  declined, 
the  memorials  of  many  sins,  like  many  other  of  the  discordant 
elements  of  mediaeval  society,  were  doubtless  absorbed  and 
consecrated  in  the  monastic  societies.  The  strong  sense 
always  evinced  in  the  Church  of  the  enormity  of  unchastity 
probably  rendered  the  ecclesiastics  more  cautious  in  this  than 
in  other  forms  of  charity,  for  institutions  especially  intended 
for  deserted  children  advanced  but  slowly.  Even  Rome,  the 
mother  of  many  charities,  could  boast  of  none  till  the  begin- 
ning of  the  thirteenth  century.  •  About  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century  we  find  societies  at  Milan  charged,  among 
other  functions,  with  seeking  for  exposed  children.  Towards 
the  close  of  the  same  century,  a  monk  of  Montpellier,  whose 
very  name  is  doubtful,  but  who  is  commonly  spoken  of  as 
Brother  Guy,  foimded  a  confraternity  called  by  the  name  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  and  devoted  to  the  pi-otection  and  education 
of  children ;  and  this  society  in  the  two  following  centuries 
ramified  over  a  great  part  of  Europe.^  Though  principally 
and  at  first,  perhaps,  exclusively  intended  for  the  care  of  the 
orphans   of   legitimate    marriagfs,  though   in    the    fifteenth 


'  The  first  seems  to  have  been  angel.    Compare  Remade,  Hospia* 

the     hospital    of    Sta.     Maria    in  d'Evfans  trouves,  pp.  36-. 37,    anrl 

Sassia,   which    had    existed    -with  Amydemns,  P/cirts /i'o/«awrt  (a  book 

various   changes   from    the  eiglith  written  a.d.   1624,  and  translated 

century,    but    was  made  a  found-  in  part  into  English  in  a.d.  1687), 

ling    hospital  and  confided   to  the  Eug.  trans,  pp.  2,  3. 

care    of   Guy    of    Montpellior    in  ^  For  the   little  that  is  known 

4.D.  1204.     According  to  one  tra-  about  this   mi.'^sionary  of  charity, 

iition.    Pope    Innocent    III.    had  compare  Rcmaclo,   Hospices  d'F.n- 

br-en  shocked  at  hearing  of  infants  fans  trouves,  pp.  34-44  ;  and  Lb- 

diawn   in   the   nets   of  fishermen  Xiowrt,  Rccherchcs  hist oriques  sur  let 

fr  m    the    Tdier.      According    to  EvJ'ans  trouves,  pp.  38-41. 
another,  he   was   inspired    by    an 


34  rriSTORY  of  European  morals. 

centuiy  the  Hospital  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Paris  even  re- 
fused to  admit  deserted  children,  yet  the  care  of  foundlinga 
scon  i)assed  in  a  great  measiu-e  into  its  hands.     At  last,  after 
many  complaints  of  the  frequency  of  infanticide,  St.  Vincent 
de  Paul  arose,  and  gave  so  gi-eat  an  impulse  to  that  branch 
of  charity  that  he  may  be  regaided  as  its  second  author,  and 
his  influence  was  felt  not  only  in  private  charities,  but  in 
leirislative  enactments.     Into  the  effects  of  these  measures — 
the  encouragement  of  the  vice  of  incontinence  by  institutions 
that  -were  designed  to  suppress  the  crime  of  infanticide,  and 
the  serious  moral  controversies  suggested  by  this  apparent 
conflict  between  the  interests  of  humanity  and  of  chastity — ■ 
it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  enter.     We  are  at  present  con- 
cerned with  the  principles  that  actuated  Christian  charity, 
not  with  the  wisdom  of  its  organisations.     Whatever  mis- 
takes may  ha"\'e  been  made,  the  entire  movement  T   have 
traced  displays  an  anxiety  not  only  for  the  life,  but  also  for 
the  moral  well-being,  of  the  castaways  of  society,  such  ns  the 
most  humane  nations  of  anti«niity  had  never  reachetl.     This 
minute  and  scrupulous  care  for  human  life  and  human  virtue 
in  the  humblest  forms,  in  the  slave,  the  gladiat<")r,  the  savage, 
or  the  infant,  was  indeed  wholly  foreign  to  the  genius  of 
Paganism.     It  was  pro<lnced   by  the  Christian   doctrine  of 
the  inestimable  value  of  each  immortal  soul.     It  is  the  dis- 
tinguishing and  transcendent  char.acteristic  of  evei-y  society 
Into  which  the  spiiit  of  Christianity  has  passed. 

The  influence  of  Christianity  in  the  protection  of  infant 
life,  though  very  real,  may  be,  and  I  think  often  has  been, 
exaggerated.  It  would  be  diflicult  to  overrate  its  influence 
in  tlie  spliero  we  have  next  to  examine.  Tliore  is  scarcely 
any  other  single  reform  so  important  in  the  moral  history  of 
mankind  as  the  suppression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows,  and 
this  feat  mu.st  be  almost  exclusively  ascribed  to  the  Christian 
(/hurch.  When  we  rcmcmlxir  how  extremely  few  of  the 
l>e!st  and  greatest  men  of  the  Romim  world  had    absolutely 


FKOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CIIAliLEMAGJSE.  35 

condemned  the  games  of  the  am^ihitheatre,  it  is  impossible  to 
regard,  without  the  deejiest  admiration,  the  unwavering  and 
uncompromising  consistency  of  the  patristic  denunciations. 
And  even  comparing  the  Fathers  with  the  most  enlightened 
Pagan  moralists  in  their  treatment  of  this  matter,  we  shall 
u snail V  find  one  most  significant  difference.  The  Pasjan,  iu 
the  spu'it  of  philoso2:)hy,  denounced  these  games  as  inhuman, 
or  demoralising,  or  degrading,  or  brutal.  The  Christian,  in 
the  spirit  of  the  Church,  represented  them  as  a  definite  sin, 
the  sin  of  miu-der,  for  which  the  spectatoi-s  as  well  as  the 
actors  were  directly  responsible  before  Heaven.  In  the  very 
latest  days  of  the  Pagan  Empire,  magnificent  amphitheatres 
were  still  arising,'  and  Constantlne  himself  had  condemned 
numerous  barbarian  captives  to  combat  with  wild  beasts.^ 
It  was  in  a.d.  32.5,  immediately  after  the  convocation  of  the 
Council  of  Nice,  that  the  fii'st  Chi'istian  emperor  issued  the 
first  edict  in  the  Poman  Empire  condemnatory  of  the  gladia- 
torial games.-^  It  was  issued  in  Berytus  in  Syria,  and  is 
believed  by  some  to  have  been  only  applicable  to  the  province 
of  Phoenicia  ;  •*  but  even  in  this  province  it  was  suffered  to 
be  inoperative,  for,  only  fom-  years  later,  Libanius  speaks  of 
the  shows  as  habitually  celebrated  at  Antioch.*  In  the 
Western  Empire  their  continuance  was  fully  recognised, 
though  a  few  infinitesimal  restrictions  were  imjjosed  upon 
them.     Constantino,  in  A.D.   3.57,  prohibited  the  lanista?,  or 


'E.g.     tlie     aTnpliitheatre    of  ad  poenas  spectaculodati  Faevientes 

Wrona  was  only  built  under  Dio-  bfstias     multitudiie    sua    fatipa- 

cktian.  runt.'—  Emncniu.'?,  Vnncg.  ConMaut. 

^  '  Quid     hoc     triumpho    pul-  xi. 

clirius?    .  .  .  Tantam  captivorum  '  Cvd.   Thod.  lib.  xv.  tit.    )2 

imiltitudinem  bestiis  objicit  ut  in-  lex  1.     Sozonien,  i.  8. 

fjiati  et  perfidi  non  minus  doloris  *  This,  at  least,  is  the  opinioti 

ex  ludibrio  sui  qiiam  ex  ipsa  niorte  of  Godefroy,  who  has  discussed  the 

fiitiantur.' — Incerti       Panciji/rki's  subject  very  fully.     (tW.    Theod, 

ioii/i/ant.      'Puberes  qui  in  inanus  lib.  xv.  tit.  12.) 

veuerunt,  quorum  ncc  perfidia  erat  *  Libanius,  De  Vita  Sua,  3. 
ypta  inilituf,  nee  terocia  servituti 


36  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MOITALS. 

purveyore  of  gladiators,  from  bribing  servants  of  the  palace  to 
enrol  themselves  as  combatants.'  Yalentinian,  in  a.d.  365,  for- 
bade any  Christian  criminal,^  and  in  a.d.  367,  any  one  connected 
with  the  Palatine,^  being  condemned  to  fight.  Honorius 
prohibited  any  slave  who  had  been  a  gladiator  passing  into 
the  service  of  a  senator ;  but  the  real  object  of  this  last 
measure  was,  I  imagine,  not  so  much  to  stigmatise  the 
gladiator,  as  to  guard  against  the  danger  of  an  armed  nobility.'* 
A  much  more  impoitant  fact  is  that  the  spectacles  were 
never  introduced  into  the  new  capital  of  Constantine.  At 
Rome,  though  they  became  less  numerous,  they  do  not  appear 
to  have  been  suspended  iintil  their  final  suppression.  The 
passion  for  gladiators  was  the  worst,  while  religious  liberty 
was  probably  the  best,  feature  of  the  old  Pagan  society ;  and 
it  is  a  melancholy  fact  that  of  these  two  it  was  the  nobler 
part  that  in  the  Christian  Empire  was  first  destroyed,  Thco- 
dosius  the  Great,  who  suppressed  all  diversity  of  worship 
throughout  the  Empire,  and  who  showed  himself  on  many 
occasions  the  docile  slave  of  the  clergy,  won  the  applause  of 
the  Pagan  Symmachus  by  compelling  his  barbarian  prisoners 
to  fight  as  gladiators.^  Besides  this  occasion,  we  have  .special 
knowledge  of  gladiatorial  games  that  were  celebrated  in  A.D. 
385,  in  A.D.  391,  and  afterwards  in  the  reign  of  Honorius, 
and  the  practice  of  condemning  criminals  to  the  arena  still 
continued.^ 

But  although  the  supi)ression  of  the  gladiatorial  shows 
was  not  effected  in  the  metropolis  of  the  Empire  till  nearly 
tiinety  years  after  Christianity  had  been  the  State  religion, 
the  distinction  between  the  teaching  of  the  Christians  and 
I'agans  on  the  subject  remained  unimpaired.     To  the  last, 


•  Cod.  Theod.  lib.xv.tit.  12,1.2,  •  M.  Wallon  has  traced  these 
'  Ihid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  40,  1.  8.  last  shows    with    much  learning. 

•  Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  40,  1.  11.  {Hist,  de  VEsclavage,  Icrie  iii.  pp, 

*  Tbid.  lib.  XV.  tit.  12,  1.  3.  421-429.) 

*  Symmach.  Ex.  x.  61. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CIIARLEMAGJ^K.  37 

the  most  estimable  of  tlie  Pagans  appear  to  have  regarded 
them  with  favour  or  indifference.  Julian,  it  is  true,  with  a 
rare  magnanimitj,  refused  persistently,  in  his  conflict  with 
Christianity,  to  avail  himself,  as  he  might  most  easily  have 
done,  of  the  popular  passion  for  games  which  the  Church 
condemned  ;  but  Libanius  has  noticed  them  with  some  appro- 
bation,' and  Symmachus,  as  we  have  already  seen,  both  in- 
stituted and  applauded  them.  But  the  Christians  steadily 
refused  to  admit  any  professional  gladiator  to  baptism  till  he 
had  pledged  himself  to  abandon  his  calling,  and  every  Chris- 
tian who  attended  the  games  was  excluded  from  communion. 
The  preachers  and  writers  of  the  Church  denounced  them 
with  the  most  unqualified  vehemence,  and  the  poet  Prudentius 
made  a  direct  and  earnest  appeal  to  the  emperor  to  suppress 
them.  In  the  East,  where  they  had  never  taken  very  firm 
root,  they  appear  to  have  ceased  about  the  time  of  Theodosius, 
and  a  passion  for  chariot  races,  which  rose  to  the  most  extra- 
vagant height  at  Constantinople  and  in  many  other  cities, 
took  their  place.  In  the  West,  the  last  gladiatorial  show  was 
celebrated  at  Rome,  under  Honorius,  in  a.d.  404,  in  honour 
of  the  triumph  of  Stilicho,  when  an  Asiatic  monk,  named 
Telemachus,  animated  by  the  noblest  heroism  of  philanthropy, 
rushed  into  the  amphitheatre,  and  attempted  to  part  the  com- 
batants. He  perished  beneath  a  shower  of  stones  flung  by 
the  angry  spectators ;  but  his  death  led  to  the  final  abolition 
of  the  gamcs.2  Combats  of  men  with  wild  beasts  continued, 
however,  much  later,  and  were  especially  popular  in  the  East. 
The  ditficulty  of  procuring  wild  animals,  amid  the  general 
poverty,  contributed,  with  other  causes,  to  their  decline. 
They  sank,  at  last,  into  games  of  cruelty  to  animals,  but  of 
little  danger  to  men,  and  were  finally  condemned,  at  the  enil 
of  the  seventh  century,  by  the  Council  of  Trullo.'     In  Italy, 

'  Ho_   wavered,    however,     on     tome  iii.  p.  423. 
the    subject,  and  on  one  occasion  ^  Tljeodoret,  v.  26. 

condemned    them.      See    Wallon,  »  MuUer.  De  Geiiio  .Evi  Thco- 

35 


38  IIISTOKY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

tho  custom  of  sham  figlits,  whicli  continued  tliiough  the  whole 
of  the  middle  ages,  and  which  Petiarch  declares  were  in  hia 
dciys  sometimes  attended  with  considerable  bloodshed,  may- 
perhaps  be  traced  in  some  degree  to  the  traditions  of  the 
:implii  theatre.' 

The  extinction  of  the  gladiatorial  spectacles  is,  of  all  the 
results  of  early  Christian  influence,  that  upon  which  the 
historian  can  look  with  the  deepest  and  most  unmingled 
satisfaction.  Horrible  as  was  the  bloodshed  they  directly 
caused,  these  games  wei"e  perhaps  still  more  pemiciouj.  on 
account  of  the  callousness  of  feeling  they  diffiised  through  all 
classes,  the  fatal  obstacle  they  presented  to  any  general  eleva- 
tion of  the  standard  of  humanity.  Yet  the  attitude  of  the 
Pagans  decisively  proves  that  no  progress  of  philosophy  or 
social  civilisation  was  likely,  for  a  very  long  period,  to  have 
extirpated  them ;  and  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that,  had  they 
been  floiu-ishing  unchallenged  as  in  the  days  of  Trajan,  when 
the  i-ude  warriors  of  the  North  obtained  the  empire  of  Italy, 
they  would  have  been  eagerly  adopted  by  the  conquerors, 
would  have  taken  dee])  root  in  media3val  life,  and  have  inde- 
finitely retarded  the  progress  of  humanity.  Chi-istianity 
alone  was  pow(^rfuI  enough  to  tear  this  evil  plant  fi"om  the 
Roman  soil.  The  Christian  cnstom  of  legacies  for  the  i-elief 
of  the  indigent  and  sufforing  replaced  the  Pagan  custom  of 
l)eqneathing  sums  of  money  for  games  in  honour  of  the  dead , 
and  the  month  of  December,  which  was  looked  forward  to 
with  eagei-ness  through  all  the  Roman  world,  as  the  special 
sea.s()u  of  the  gladiatorial  spectacles,  was  consecrated  in  the 
(Jhurch  })y  another  festival  commemoi-ative  of  the  advent  of 
Cliiist. 

The  notion  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  which  led  the 
enjly   Chnstians  to  combat  and  at  last  to   ovei-thi-ow  the 


^oxiani  (1797).  vol.  ii.  p.  88;  Mil-  '  See  on  these  fights  Oznnam's 

i.i.iii,   Hist,  of  FM!-h/   ChristUmity,     Cii-ilimtion    in  the   Fifth    Century 
io\.  iii.  pp  343-347.  (Eng.  trans.),  vol.  i.  p.  130. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  39 

gladiatorial  games,  was  earned  by  some  of  them  to  an  extent 
altogether  iiTeconcilable  with  national  independence,  and 
with  the  prevailing  penal  system.  Many  of  them  taught 
that  no  ChristLan  might  lawfully  take  away  life,  either  as  a 
soldier,  or  by  bringing  a  capital  charge,  or  by  acting  as  an 
executioner.  The  first  of  these  questions  it  will  be  convenient 
to  reserve  for  a  later  period  of  this  chapter,  when  I  propose 
to  examine  the  relations  of  Christianity  to  the  military  spirit, 
and  a  veiy  few  words  will  be  suiEcient  to  dispose  of  the 
others.  The  notion  that  there  is  something  impure  and  de- 
filing, even  in  a  just  execution,  is  one  which  may  be  traced 
through  many  ages ;  and  executioners,  as  the  ministers  of  the 
law,  have  been  from  very  ancient  times  regarded  as  unholy. 
In  both  Greece  and  Rome  the  law  compelled  them  to  live 
outside  the  walls,  and  at  Rhodes  they  were  never  permitted 
even  to  enter  the  city.*  Notions  of  this  kind  were  veiy 
strongly  held  in  the  early  Chui'ch  ;  and  a  decree  of  the  peni- 
tential discipline  which  was  enforced,  even  against  emperors 
and  generals,  forbade  anyone  whose  hands  had  been  imbrued 
in  blood,  even  when  that  blood  was  shed  in  a  righteous  war, 
approaching  the  altar  without  a  preparatory  peiiod  of  penance. 
The  opinions  of  the  Christians  of  the  first  three  centui-ies 
were  usually  formed  without  any  regard  to  the  necessities  of 
civil  or  political  life;  but  when  the  Church  obtained  an 
ascendancy,  it  was  found  necessary  speedily  to  modify  them  ; 
and  although  Lactantius,  in  the  fouith  century,  maintained 
the  unlawfulness  of  all  bloodshed,^  as  strongly  as  Origen  in 
the  third,  and  Tertullian  in  the  second,  the  common  doctrine 
was  simply  that  no  priest  or  bishop  must  take  any  part  in  a 
capital  charge.  From  this  exceptional  position  of  the  clei-gy 
they  speedily  acqim-ed  the  position  of  olficial  intercessoi-s  for 


'  Nienpoort,    Be    Ridbiis   Bo-  earlier  testimonies  on  the  subject 

matiorum,  p.  169.  are  given  by  Barbeyrac,  Morale  dct 

"  See  a  very  unequivocal  pas-  Pires,  and  in  many  other  books, 
sage,  Inst.   Div.   vi.    20.     Several 


to  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

criminals,  ambassadors  of  mercy,  when,  from  some  act  of 
sedition  or  other  cadse,  their  city  or  neighbourhood  waa 
menaced  with  a  bloody  invasion.  Tho  right  of  sanctuaiy, 
which  was  befoie  possessed  by  the  Imperial  statues  and  by 
the  Pagan  temples,  was  accorded  to  the  churches.  During 
the  holy  seasons  of  Lent  and  Easter,  no  ciiminal  trials  could 
be  held,  and  no  criminal  could  be  tortured  or  executed.^ 
Miracles,  it  was  said,  were  sometimes  wrought  to  attest  the 
innocence  of  accused  or  condemned  men,  but  were  never 
wrought  to  consign  criminals  to  execution  by  the  civil 
power. '^ 

All  this  had  an  importance  much  beyond  its  immediate 
effect  in  tempering  the  administration  of  the  law.  Tt  con- 
tributed largely  to  associate  in  the  popular  imagination  the 
ideas  of  sanctity  and  of  mercy,  and  to  increase  the  reverence 
for  human  life.  It  had  also  another  remarkable  effect,  to 
which  I  have  adverted  in  another  work.  The  belief  that  it 
was  wrong  for  a  i)iiest  to  bring  any  charge  that  could  give  rise 
to  a  capital  sentence  caused  the  leading  clergy  to  slirink  from 
pei"secuting  heresy  to  death,  at  a  time  when  in  all  other 
respects  the  theory  of  persecution  had  been  fully  matured. 
When  it  was  readily  admitted  that  heresy  was  in  the  highest 
degree  criminal,  and  ought  to  be  made  })enal,  when  laws  ban- 
ishing, fining,  or  imprisoning  heretics  filled  the  statute-book, 
and  when  every  vestige  of  religioiis  li])erty  was  suppressed  at 

'  See  two  laws  eiiuctcd  in  A.n.  St.  Mncariu.x.     An  innocent  man, 

380  {Cod.  Thcod.  ix.  fit.  3.'),  I.  4)  accused  of  a  murdpr,  fled  to  him. 

and  A.D.  389  {Cod.  Th.dd.  ix.  tit.  Ho  brought  both  the  accused  and 

35,  1.  fi).     Theodosius  tho  Yountcer  acc.isers  to  the  tomb  of  tho  mur- 

made  a  law  (ix.  tit.  3."),  1.  7)  except-  dercd  man,  and  asked  him  whether 

intr  tlie   Isaurian  robbers  from  the  tiie  prisoner  Mas  I  lie  murderer.  The 

privileges  of  those  laws.  corpse  answered  in  tho  negative; 

■  There  are,   of  course,    iiuiu-  tlio  ijjstan<lcrs  implored  St.  Maca- 

niorable  miracles  punishing  guilty  rius   to  ask  it  to  reveal  the   real 

iren,  but  1  know  none  assisting  tho  culprit;  but  St.  Macarius  refused 

civil  power  in  doing  so.     As  an  to  do  so.     {Vitcc  Talrum,   lib.   ii 

example  of  the  miracles  in  defence  cap.  xxviii.) 
of  tho  innocent,  I  may  cite  one  Ijy 


FROM    CO?<STANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  41 

the  instigation  of  the  clergy,  these  still  shrank  fi-om  the  last 
and  inevitable  step,  not  because  it  was  an  atrocious  violation 
of  the  rights  of  conscience,  but  because  it  was  contrary  to  the 
ecclesiastical  discipline  for  a  bishop,  under  any  circumstances; 
to  countenance  bloodshed.  It  was  on  this  gi'ound  that  St. 
Augustine,  wliile  eagerly  advocating  the  persecution  of  the 
Donatists,  more  than  once  expressed  a  wish  that  they  should 
not  be  punished  with  death,  and  that  St.  Ambrose,  and  St. 
Martin  of  Tours,  who  were  both  energetic  persecutors,  ex- 
pressed their  abhorrence  of  the  Spanish  bishops,  who  had 
caused  some  Priscillianists  to  be  executed.  I  have  elsewhere 
noticed  the  odious  hypocrisy  of  tlie  later  inquisitors,  who  rele- 
gated the  execution  of  the  sentence  to  the  civil  power,  with 
a  prayer  that  the  heretics  should  be  punished  *  as  mildly  as 
possible  and  without  the  effusion  of  blood,' '  which  came  at 
last  to  be  interpreted,  by  the  death  of  fii-e ;  but  I  may  here 
add,  that  this  hideous  mockeiy  is  not  unique  in  the  history  of 
religion.  Plutarch  suggests  that  one  of  the  reasons  for  bury- 
ing unchaste  vestals  alive  was  that  they  were  so  sacred  that 
it  was  unlawful  to  lay  violent  hands  upon  them,^  and  among 
the  Donatists  the  CircumcelKones  were  for  a  time  accustomed 
to  abstaia,  in  obedience  to  the  evangelical  command,  from  the 
use  of  the  sword,  while  they  beat  to  death  those  who  differed 
from  their  theological  opinions  with  massive  clubs,  to  which 
they  gave  the  very  significant  name  of  Israelites.^ 

The  time  came  when  the  Chri.stian  priests  shod  blood 
enough.  The  extreme  sciupulosity,  however,  wliich  they  at 
fii'st  displayed,  is  not  only  exceedingly  curious  when  con- 
trasted with  their  later  history;  it  was  also,  by  the  association 
of  ideas  which  it  promoted,  very  favourable  to  humanity. 


''Ut  quiim    clcmentissime   et  tome  vi.  pp.  88-98.   Tlio  Donatists 

ultra  sanguinis  effusiouem  punire-  after  a  time,  however,  are  said  to 

tur.'  have  overcome  their  scrviples,  aud 

*  QiuEst.  Bomavee,  xcvi.  used  swords. 
Tillemont,  Mem.  d^Hut  '?c'ei. 


i2  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

It  is  remarkable,  however,  that  while  some  of  the  early 
Fathers  were  tha  undoubted  precursors  of  Beccaria,  their 
teaching,  unlike  that  of  the  pliilosophers  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  had  little  or  no  appreciable  influence  in  mitigating 
the  severity  of  the  penal  code.  Indeed,  the  more  carefully 
the  Chiistian  legislation  of  the  Empire  is  examined,  and  tho 
more  fully  it  is  compared  with  what  had  been  done  under 
the  influence  of  Stoicism  by  the  Pagan  legislators,  the  more 
evident,  I  think,  it  will  appear  that  the  golden  age  of  Roman 
law  was  not  Christian,  but  Pagan.  Great  works  of  codifica- 
tion were  accomplished  under  the  younger  Theodosius,  and 
under  Justinian  ;  but  it  was  in  the  reign  of  Pagan  emperors, 
and  especially  of  Hadrian  and  Alexander  Severus,  that 
nearly  all  the  most  im))ortant  measures  were  taken,  redress- 
ing injustices,  elevating  op])ressed  classes,  and  making  the 
doctrine  of  the  natural  equality  and  fraternity  of  mankind 
the  basis  of  legal  enactments.  Receiving  the  heritage  of 
these  laws,  the  Clmstians,  no  doubt,  added  something ;  but  a 
careful  examination  will  show  that  it  was  surpris'ngly  little. 
In  no  respect  is  the  greatness  of  the  Stoic  philosoj)lier8  more 
conspicuous  than  in  the  contrast  between  the  gigantic  steps 
of  legal  reform  made  in  a  few  years  under  their  influence, 
and  the  almost  insignificant  steps  taken  when  Christianity 
had  obtained  an  ascendancy  in  the  Empire,  not  to  speak  ot 
the  long  period  of  decrepitude  that  followed.  In  the  way  of 
mitigating  the  severity  of  punishments,  Constantine  made, 
it  is  true,  three  important  laws  prohibiting  the  custom  of 
branding  criminals  upon  the  face,  the  condemnation  of 
criminals  as  gladiators,  and  the  continuance  of  the  once 
degrading  but  now  sticred  punishment  of  crucifixion,  which 
had  been  veiy  commonly  employed;  but  these  moasuieH 
were  more  than  counterbalanced  by  the  extreme  severity 
with  which  the  Christian  emperors  punished  infanticide, 
adultery,  seduction,  rape,  and  several  other  crimes,  and 
the  number  of  cajutal  offences  became  considerably  greater 


FROM    C0NSTA3STINE    TO    CHARLKMAGNE.  43 

tlianl>efore.'  The  most  prominent  evidence,  indeed,  of  eccle- 
siastical influence  in  the  Theodosian  code  is  that  which  must 
be  most  lamented.  It  is  the  immense  mass  of  legislation, 
intended  on  the  one  hand  to  elevate  the  clergy  into  a 
separate  and  sacred  caste,  and  on  the  other  to  persecute  in 
every  form,  and  with  every  degree  of  violence,  all  who 
deviated  from  the  fine  line  of  Catholic  orthodoxy.^ 

The  last  consequence  of  the  Christian  estimate  of  human 
life  was  a  very  emphatic  condemnation  of  suicide.  "We  have 
already  seen  that  the  arguments  of  the  Pagan  moralists,  who 
were  opposed  to  this  act,  were  of  four  kinds.  The  religious 
argument  of  Pythagoras  and  Plato  was,  that  we  are  all 
soldiers  of  God,  placed  in  an  appointed  post  of  duty,  which  it 
is  a  rebellion  against  our  Maker  to  desert.  The  civic  argu- 
ment of  Aristotle  and  the  Greek  legislators  was  that  we  owe 
our  services  to  the  State,  and  that  therefore  voluntarily  to 
abandon  life  is  to  abandon  our  duty  to  our  country.  The 
argument  which  Plutarch  and  other  writers  derived  from 
human  dignity  was  that  true  courage  is  shown  in  the 
manful  endurance  of  suffering,  while  suicide,  being  an  act  of 
(light,  is  an  act  of  cowardice,  and  therefoi-e  unworthy  of  man. 
The  mystical  or  Quietist  argument  of  the  Neoplatonists  was 
that  all  perturbation  is  a  pollution  of  the  soul ;  that  the  act 
of  suicide  is  accompanied  by,  and  springs  from,  perturbation, 

'  Under  the  Christian  kings,  the  le  vol  et  le  nieurtre  qui  ju.sque.s-l:'i 

barbarians  multiplied  tlio  number  n'avoient  ete  punis  que  par  lexil, 

of  capital  offences,   but  this   has  ou  dont  on  so  rachetoit  par  ime 

usually   been  regarded  as  an  im-  composition.     Les  Fran(,-ois,  en  r6- 

provement.    The  Abbe  Mably  says:  formant  quolques-mics  de  lours  lois 

'Quoiquil  nous  reste  peu  d'ordon-  civiles,  porlercnt  la  severite  aussi 

nances    faites    sous    les    premiers  loin  que  lours  peres  avoient  pousse 

Jlerovingicns, nous voyons qua vaiit  I'indulgence.' — Mably,   Observ.  sur 

la  fin  du  sixieme  siecle.  les  Fran-  I'JJijft.  des  Frant^ois,  liv.  i.   ch.  iii. 

9ois  avoient  deja  adopt^ la  doctrine  See,  too,  Gibbous  Decline  and  Full^ 

ea'.utaire    dcs    Eomains    au  sujet  ch.  xxxviii. 

do  la  prescription;  et  que  roiion-  -  The  whole  of  the  sixth  volume 

(jant  a  cette  humanite  cruello  qui  of  Oodcfroy's  edition  (folio)  of  the 

les  enhardissoit  au  mal,  ils  iufli-  Theodosian  code  is  tikou  up  Mitb 

g^rontpeinedemortcontrerinceste,  laws  of  these  kinds. 


44  HISTORY    OF    EUKOPEAN    MORALS. 

and  that  therefore  the  perpetrator  ends  his  days  by  a  crime. 
Of  these  four  ai-guments,  the  last  cannot,  I  think,  be  said  to 
have  had  any  place  among  the  Christian  dissuasives  from 
Biucida,  and  the  influence  of  the  second  was  almost  imper- 
ceptible.    The  notion  of  patriotism  being  a  moral  duty  was 
habitually  discouraged  in  the  early  Church ;  and  it  was  im- 
possible to  urge  the  ci\'ic  argument  against  suicide  without 
at  the  same  time  condemning  the  hermit  life,  which  in  the 
thiid  century  became  the  ideal  of  the  Church.     The  duty  a 
man  owes  to  his  family,  which  a  modern  moralist  would  deem 
the  most  obvious  and,  perhaps,  the  most  conclusive  proof  of 
the  general  criminality  of  suicide,  and  which  may  be  said  to 
have    rejilaced   the    civic    argument,    was    scarcely  noticed 
either  by  the  Pagans  or   the  early  Christians.      The   first 
were  accustomed  to  lay  so  much  stress  upon  the  authority, 
that  they  scarcely  recognised  the  duties,  of  the  father;  and 
the  latter  were  too  anxious  to  attach  all  theii*  ethics  to  the 
interests  of  another  world,  to  do  much  to  supply  the  omis- 
sion.    The  Christian  estimate  of  the  duty  of  humility,  and 
of  the  degradation  of  man,  rendered  appeals  to  human  dig- 
nity somewhat  uncongenial  to  the  patristic  writers ;  yet  these 
wiiters  frequently  dilated  upon  the  true  courage  of  patience, 
in  language  to  which  their  own  heroLsm  under  persecution 
gave  a  noble  emphasis.     To  the  exam])le  of  Cato  they  opposed 
those  of  Regulus  and  Job,  the  courage  that  eudui-es  suffering 
to  the  courage  that  confronts  death.     The  Platonic  doctrine, 
that  we  are  servants  of  the  Deity,  placed  upon  earth  to  per- 
form our  allotted  task  in  His  sight,  with  His  assistance,  and 
by   HLs    will,    thny  continually  enforced    and    most    deeply 
realised ;   and  this  doctrine   was    in    itself,    in    mo.st    cases, 
a  sufficient  preventive ;    for,    as   a   great    writer  has  said  : 
*  Though  there  are  many  ciimes  of  a  deeper  dyo  than  siucide, 
there  in  no  other  by  which  men  appear  so  formally  to  i-e- 
aounco  the  protection  of  God.'' 

'  Mme.  dc  Stael,  Itlficxions  sur  le  Suicide. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  45 

But,  in  addition  to  this  general  teaching,  the  Christian 
iheologians  iutroduced  into  the  sphere  yre  are  considei-ing 
neV  elements  both  of  terrorism  and  of  persuasion,  which 
have  had  a  decisive  influence  upon  the  judgments  of  mankind. 
They  carried  their  doctiine  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life  to 
such  a  point  that  they  maintained  dogmatically  that  a  man 
who  destroys  his  own  life  has  committed  a  crime  similar 
both  in  kind  and  magnitude  to  that  of  an  ordinary  mur- 
derer,^ and  they  at  the  same  time  gave  a  new  chai-acter  to 
death  by  their  doctrines  concerning  its  penal  nature  and 
concerning  the  future  destinies  of  the  soul.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  high  position  assigned  to  resignation  in  the  moral 
scale,  the  hope  of  future  happiness,  which  casts  a  ray  of 
light  upon  the  darkest  calamities  of  life,  the  deeper  and  more 
subtle  consolations  arising  from  the  feeling  of  trust  and  from 
the  outpouring  of  prayer,  and,  above  all,  the  Chn'stian  doc- 
trine of  the  remedial  and  p^o^ddential  character  of  suffer- 
ing, have  proved  suiEcient  protection  against  despair.  The 
Chi-istian  doctrine,  that  pain  is  a  good,  had  in  this  respect 
an  influence  that  was  never  attained  by  the  Pagan  doctrine, 
that  pain  is  not  an  evil. 

There  were,  however,  two  foims  of  suicide  which  were 
regarded  in  the  early  Church  with  some  tolerance  or  hesita- 
tion. Dui'ing  the  frenzy  excited  by  pei-secution,  and  under 
the  influence  of  the  belief  that  martyrdom  eftliced  in  a  mo- 
ment the  sins  of  a  life,  and  introduced  the  sufferer  at  once 
into  celestial  joys,  it  was  not  uncommon  for  men,  in  a  trans- 
port of  enthusiasm,  to  rush  before  the  Pagan  judges,  implor- 


'  The    foUo-ning     became    the  to  the  act  of  Sextius,  or  she  did 

theological    doctriue   on   the  sub-  not.     In  the  first  case  she  was  an 

jeet:    '  Est  vere  homiciiia  et   reus  adulteress,    and   shoiild    therefore 

homicidii  qui  se  interficicndo  inno-  not   be   admired.     In   the   second 

centum    hominem    interfecerit." —  case  she  was  a  murderess,  because 

Lisle,  JDu  Suicide,  p.  400.     St.  Au-  in   killing   herself    she   killed   an 

gustine   has   much   in  this  strain,  innocent     and     virtuous    woman. 

Lucrelia,  he  says,  either  consented  {De  Civ.  Dei,  i.  19.) 


"C 


ill  IIISTOUY    OF    EUnorEAN    MOKALS. 

Lag  or  pi'ovokiBg  martyrdom ;  and  some  of  the  ecclesiastical 
wi-iters  have  spoken,  of  these  men  with  considerable  admira- 
tion,' though  the  general  tone  of  the  patristic  wi-itings  and 
the  councils  of  the  Chiirch  condemned  them.  A  more  serious 
difficulty  arose  about  Christian  women  who  committed  suicide 
to  guard  their  chastity  when  menaced  by  the  infamoiis  sen- 
tences of  their  persecutors,  or  more  frequently  by  the  lust  of 
emjDerors,  or  by  barbarian  invaders.  St.  Pelagia,  a  girl  of  only 
fifteen,  who  has  been  canonised  by  the  Church,  and  who  was 
■wai'mly  eulogised  by  St.  Ambrose  and  St.  Chrysostora, 
having  been  captured  by  the  soldiery,  obtained  permission 
to  retire  to  her  room  for  the  piirpose  of  robing  herself, 
mounted  to  the  roof  of  the  house,  and,  flinging  herself  down, 
pei'ished  by  the  fall.^  A  Christian  lady  of  Antioch,  named 
Domnina,  had  two  daughters  renowned  alike  for  their  beauty 
and  their  piety.  Being  captured  diu-ing  the  Diocletian  persecu  • 
tion,  and  feai-ing  the  loss  of  their  chastity,  they  agreed  by  one 
bold  act  to  free  themselves  from  the  danger*,  and,  cjisting  them- 
selves into  a  river  by  the  way,  mother  and  daughters  sank 
unsullied  in  the  wave.^  The  tyrant  Maxentius  was  fasci- 
nated by  the  beauty  of  a  Christian  lady,  the  wife  of  the 
Prefect  of  Rome.  Having  sought  in  vain  to  elude  liis 
addresses,  having  been  di-agged  from  her  house  by  the 
minions  of  the  tyrant,  the  faithful  wife  obtained  permission, 
before  yielding  to  her  master's  embraces,  to  retire  for  a 
moment  into  her  chamber,  and  she  there,  with  true  lioniau 
courage,   stabbed  herself  to   the  heart.^      Some  Pi-otestaiit 


'  Justin  Martyr,  Tertullinn,  and  Jica  del  Suicidio  ragionalo  (\  enozia, 

Cyprian  are  especially    ardent  in  1788),  pp.  135-140. 

this  respect;  but   their   language  ''An\\)TOHC,DcVirghiilii<s.V\'\.'J. 

is,  I  think,  in  their  circumstance.s,  '  Eusebius,  EccIes.Hist.  viii.  12. 

extremely     excusable.       Compare  *  Eusebius,    Fxrchs.    hut.    viii. 

^iwhayvac,  Mornlede8  Peres,  v\\.  W.  H.      Bayle,    in    his   articlo    u)(  i. 

§  8;  ch.  viii.  §§  34-39.      Donne's  .Suphronia,  appears   to  bo  gre;illy 

Uiiithanatos  (ed.  1644),  pp.  58-67.  scandalised  at  this  act,  and  it  seems 

Cromaziano,  Moria  critica  c  filoso-  that  among  the  Catholics  it  is  not 


FKOM    CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  47 

controversialists  have  been  scandalised,'  and  some  Catholic 
controversialists  perplexed,  by  the  undisgiiised  admiration 
with  which  the  early  ecclesiastical  wi-iters  narrate  these  his- 
tories. To  those  who  have  not  sufTered  theological  opinions 
to  destroy  all  theii'  natural  sense  of  nobility  it  will  need 
110  defence. 

This  was  the  only  form  of  avowed  suicide  which  was  in 
any  degree  permitted  in  the  early  Church.  St.  Ambrose 
rather  timidly,  and  St.  Jerome  more  strongly,  commended 
it;  but  at  the  time  when  the  capture  of  Rome  by  the  soldiers 
of  Alaric  made  the  question  one  of  pressing  interest,  St. 
Augustine  devoted  an  elaborate  examination  to  the  subject, 
and  while  expressing  his  iDitying  admiration  for  the  vii-gin 
suicides,  decidedly  condemned  their  act.^  His  opinion  of 
the  absolute  sinfulness  of  suicide  has  since  be?n  generally 
adopted  by  the  Catholic  theologians,  who  pretend  that  Pela- 
gia  and  Domnina  acted  under  the  impulse  of  a  special  revela- 
tion.3     At  the  same  time,  by  a  glaring  though  very  natuial 


considered   right   to   admire   this  Pclagia,  Tillemoiit  finds  a  stronc 

poor  lady  as   much  as  her  sister  argument  in  support  of  this  view 

suicides.         Tillcmont      remarks:  in  the   astounding,  if  not  miracu- 

'  Comme  on  ne  volt  pas  que  I'egli.se  Ions,  fact  that,  having  thrown  her- 

romaine  I'ait  jamais  honoree,  nous  self  from  tlie  top  of  the  house,  she 

n'avons  pas  le  mesme  droit  de  jus-  was   actually   killed    by   the  fall! 

tifier    son    action.' — Hist,    cedes.  '  Estant  montee  tout  au  haut  de  sa 

tome  V.  pp.  404,  405.  maison,  fortifieo  par  lo  mouvemcnt 

'  Especially   Earheyrac   in  his  que  J.-C.  formoit  dans  son  ccBur  et 

Morale   dcs   Peres.      lie   wi'S    an-  par  le  courage  qu"il  luy  iuspiroit, 

Bwered    by   Ccillier,    Cromaziano,  elle  se  preeipita  de   la  du  hint  en 

and    others.      Matthew  of  West-  has,   et   6chapa   ainsi    a   tous    les 

minster  relates  of  Ebba,  the  ab-  piegos  de  scs  cnnemis.     Son  corps 

bess  of  a  Yorkshire  convent  which  en    tombant   a  terre  frapa,  dit  S. 

was  besieged   by  the  Danes,  that  Chryso>tiime,    les   yeux  du  demon 

she  and  all  the  other  nuns,  to  save  plus  vivement  qu'un  eclair 

their  chastity,  deformed  tlicmsclvos  Co   qui    marque   encore   quo  Dieu 

by  cutting  oif  th(^ir  noses  and  up-  agissoit    en    tout   eeci    c'est   qu'au 

per  lips.     (a.d.  870.)  lieu   que   ces  chutes  ne  sont  pas 

*  De  Civ.  Dei.  i.  22-7-  toujours  mortcUcs,  ou  quo  souvent 

*  This  liad  been  suggi^stcd  by  no  brisant  quo  quelques  membres, 
St.    Augustine.       In    tiio    case    of  elles  n'ostent  la  vie  quo  longtemps 


t8  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

inconsistency,  no  chai-acters  were  more  enthnsiasticany  ex- 
tolled than  those  anchorites  who  habitually  deprived  their 
bodies  of  the  sustenance  that  was  absolutely  necessai-y  to 
health,  and  thus  manifestly  abridged  their  lives.  St.  Jerc»me 
has  preserved  a  curious  illustration  of  the  feeling  with  which 
these  slow  suicides  were  regarded  by  the  outer  world,  in 
his  account  of  the  life  and  death  of  a  young  nun  named 
Blcsilla.  Tliis  lady  had  been  guilty  of  what,  accordmg  to 
the  I'eligious  notions  of  the  fourth  centui-y,  was,  at  least,  the 
frivolity  of  marrying,  but  was  left  a  widow  seven  months 
afterwards,  having  thus  *  lost  at  once  the  crown  of  virginity 
and  the  pleasure  of  mariiage.' '  An  attack  of  illness  inspired 
her  with  strong  religious  feelings.  At  the  age  of  twenty  she 
retired  to  a  convent.  She  attained  such  a  heiarht  of  devotion 
that,  according  to  the  very  characteristic  eulogy  of  her  bio- 
grajjher,  *  she  was  more  sorry  for  the  loss  of  her  virginity 
than  for  the  decease  of  her  husband  ;'2  and  a  long  succes- 
sion of  atrocious  penances  preceded,  if  they  did  not  produce, 
her  death. ^  The  conviction  that  she  had  been  killed  by  fast- 
ing, and  the  spectacle  of  the  uncontrollable  grief  of  her  mother, 
tilled  the  populace  with  indignation,  and  the  funeral  was 
disturbed  by  tumultuous  cries  that  the  'accursed  race  of 
monks  .should  be  banished  fi-om  the  city,  stoned,  or  drowned.'* 
In  the  Church  itself,  however,  we  find  very  few  traces  of  any 
condemnation  of  the  custom  of  undermining  the  constitution 
by  austerities,^  and  if  ^\'e  may  Ijelieve  but  a  small  pai't  of 


apres,  ni  I'un  ni  raiitre  n'arriva  en  conletur  viijinti    annorum   adoles- 

Cutte  rencontre;  mai.s  Dieii  retira  centulam   t;un    anienti  fide    crucii 

aiissitust    r&me    de    la    sainte,  en  levasse  vexillum  lit  magis  amissam 

Birte    quo    sa  tnort   parut    autatit  virginitiitem  quain   mariti    doleret 

I'effet  de  la  volout6  divine  que  de  interitum?' — Ep.  xxxix. 
g.i  chute.' — Hi-it.    cedes,    toiuo   v.  '  For    a  description   of    these 

pp.  401-402.  penances,  see  Ep.  xxxviii. 

'  '  Kt    viry:init4itis    corrjnam  et  *  Kp.  xxxix. 

nuptiarum  pi-rdidit  vuluptatum.' —  *  St.  Jerome  gave  some  SfcUsiLle 

Ep.  xxii.  advice  on  this  point  to  one  of  hia 

*'Quis   enim    siccis  oculis  re-  admirers.     (Kp.  cxxv.) 


FROM    CONSTANTIJJE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE,  49 

what  is  related  of  the  habits  of  the  early  and  medijevul  monks, 
great  numbers  of  them  must  have  thus  shortened  their  days. 
There  is  a  touching  story  told  by  St.  Bonaventvu-a,  of  St. 
Fiuncis  Assisi,  who  was  one  of  these  victims  to  asceticism 
As  the  dying  saint  sank  back  exhausted  with  spitting  blood,  he 
avowed,  as  he  looked  upon  his  emaciated  body,  that  •  he  had 
Binned  against  his  brother,  the  ass ; '  and  then,  the  feeling  of 
his  mind  taking,  as  was  usual  with  him,  the  form  of  an  hal- 
lucination, he  imagined  that,  when  at  prayer  during  the  night, 
he  heard  a  voice  sajing  :  '  Francis,  there  is  no  sinner  in  the 
world  whom,  if  he  be  converted,  God  will  not  pardon ;  but 
he  who  kills  himself  by  hard  penances  will  find  no  mercy  in 
eternity.'     He  attributed  the  voice  to  the  devil.' 

Dii'ect  and  deliberate  suicide,  which  occupies  so  promi- 
nent a  place  in  the  moral  history  of  antiquity,  almost  abso- 
lutely disappeared  within  the  Church ;  but  beyond  its  pale 
the  Circumcelliones,  in  the  foui-th  century,  constituted  them- 
selves the  apostles  of  death,  and  not  only  carried  to  the  high&st 
point  the  custom  of  provoking  martyi-dom,  by  challenging  and 
insulting  the  assemblies  of  the  Pagans,  but  even  killed  them- 
selves in  gi-eat  numbers,  imagining,  it  would  seem,  that  this 
was  a  form  of  martyrdom,  and  would  seciu-e  for  them  eternal 
salvation.  Assembling  in  hundreds,  St.  Augustine  says  even 
in  thousands,  they  leaped  with  paroxysms  of  fi-antic  joy  from 
the  brows  of  oveihanging  cliffs,  till  the  rocks  below  were  red- 
dened with  their  blood. ^  At  a  much  later  period,  we  find 
among  the  Albigenses  a  practice,  known  by  the  name  of 
Endui-a,  of  accelerating  death,  in  the  case  of  dangerous  illness, 
by  fasting,  and  sometimes  by  bleeding.^  The  wretched  Jews, 
stung  to  madness  by  the  persecution  of  the  Catholics,  furnish 


*  Hase,  St.  Francois  d' Assise,  have  given  accounts  of  these  sui- 
pp.  137-138.  St.  Palaemon  is  s<iid  cides  in  their  works  against  the 
to   have  died   of  his    austerities.  Donatists. 

(  Vit.  S.  Pachomii.)  »  See  Todd's  Life  of  St.  Tairick, 

*  St.  Augustine  and  St.  Optatus  p.  462. 


50  HISTOKT    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  most  numerous  examples  of  suicide  during  tlie  middle 
ages.  A  multitude  perished  by  their  own  hands,  to  avoid 
toi-ture,  in  France,  in  1095 ;  five  hundred,  it  is  said,  on  a 
single  occasion  at  York ;  five  hundi-ed  in  1320,  when  besieged 
by  the  Shepherds.  The  old  Pagan  legislation  on  this  subject 
remained  unaltered  in  the  Theodosian  and  Justinian  codes  ; 
but  a  Council  of  Aries,  in  the  fifth  century,  having  pronounced 
suicide  to  be  the  eflect  of  diabolical  inspiration,  a  Council  of 
Bragues,  in  the  following  century,  ordained  that  no  religious 
i-ites  shovdd  be  celebrated  at  the  tomb  of  the  culprit,  and  that 
no  masses  should  be  said  for  his  soul ;  and  these  provisions, 
which  wei-e  repeated  by  later  Councils,  were  gradually  intro- 
duced into  the  laws  of  the  barbarians  and  of  Charlemagne.  St. 
Lewis  originated  the  custom  of  confiscating  the  pro])erty  of  th» 
dead  man,  and  the  corpse  was  soon  subjected  to  gross  and  vari- 
ous outrages.  In  some  countries  it  could  only  be  removed  fi-om 
the  house  through  a  perforation  specially  made  for  the  occasion 
in  the  wall ;  it  was  dragged  upon  a  hurdle  through  the  streets, 
hang  up  with  the  head  downwards,  and  at  last  thrown  into 
the  public  sewer,  or  biu-nt,  or  buried  in  the  sand  below 
high-water  mark,  or  transfixed  by  a  stake  on  the  public 
highway. ' 

These  singularly  hideous  and  at  the  same  time  grotesque 
customs,  and  also  the  extreme  injustice  of  reducing  to  beg- 
gary the  unhappy  relations  of  the  dead,  had  tlie  very  natural 
efiect  of  exciting,  in  the  eighteenth  centmy,  a  strong  spirit  of 

'  The  wliolo  history  of  suicide  (Paris,  1856.)     Tlie  ferociotie  laws 

in    the   dark   ages  has  been  most  here  recounted  contrast  remarkably 

minutely  and  carefully  examined  with  a  law  in  the  Capitularies (  ib. 

by  M.  Bourquelot,  in  a  very  in-  vi.  lex  70),  which  provides   tbat 

teresting  series  of  memoirs  in  the  though  mass  may  not  bo  celebrated 

tliird    and  fourth^  volumes  of   the  for   a   suicide,  any  private  perso:) 

lilhliotheqiie  dc  I'L'cole  dcs  Chartes.  may,  throiii;;h  ciiant}-, catise  prayers 

I  am  much  indebted  to  these  me-  to    be    ofTerod    up    fnr    liis  goul. 

moirs  in  the  fcUowing  pages.    See,  'Quia  incumprehunsibilia  sunt  ju- 

lo".  Lisle,  IJu  Suicide,  Slulistiquc,  dicia   Dei,    et  profunditatem  con- 

Medicine,  Hixtoire,  et  LegisUUion.  silii  ejus  nemo  potest  invcstigare.' 


FKOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  51 

reaction.  Suicide  is  indeed  one  of  those  acts  which  maj  be 
condemned  by  moralists  as  a  sin.  but  which,  in  modern  timea 
at  least,  cannot  be  regarded  as  within  the  legitimate  sphere 
of  ]aw ;  for  a  society  which  accords  to  its  members  perfect 
liberty  of  emigration,  cannot  reasonably  pronounce  the  simple 
renunciation  of  life  to  be  an  offence  against  itself.  When, 
however,  Eeccaiia  and  his  followers  went  further,  and  main- 
tained that  the  mediaeval  laws  on  the  subject  were  as  impotent 
as  they  were  revolting,  they  fell,  I  think,  into  serious  error. 
The  outrages  lavished  upon  the  corpse  of  the  suicide,  though 
in  the  first  instance  an  expression  of  the  popular  horror  of 
his  act,  contributed,  by  the  associations  they  formed,  to 
strengthen  the  feeling  that  produced  them,  and  they  were 
also  peculiarly  fitted  to  scare  the  diseased,  excited,  and  over- 
sensitive imaginations  that  are  most  prone  to  suicide.  In  the 
rare  occasions  when  the  act  was  deliberately  contemplated, 
the  knowledge  that  i-eligious,  legislative,  and  social  influences 
would  combine  to  aggravate  to  the  utmost  the  agony  of  the 
surviving  relatives,  must  have  had  great  weight.  The  acti- 
vity of  the  Legislature  shows  the  continuance  of  the  act ;  but 
we  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  within  the  pale  of 
Catholicism  it  was  for  many  centuries  extremely  rare.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  somewhat  prevalent  in  Spain  in  the  last 
and  most  corrupt  period  of  the  Gothic  kingdom,'  and  many 
instances  occurred  during  a  great  pestilence  which  raged 
in  England  in  the  seventh  century ,2  and  also  during  tlie 
Black  Death  of  the  foui-teenth  century.^  "When  the  wives 
of  priests  were  separated  in  vast  numbers  from  their  hus- 
bands by  Hildebrand,  and  driven  into  the  world  blasted, 
heart-broken,  and   hopeless,   not   a  few  of  them    shortened 


'  See  the  very  interesting  work  ^  Roger  of  Wendover,  a.d.  65o. 

of  the  AbV)e  Bourret,  f.^co/e  cArf^/-  '  Esquirol,  Maladies  tnenlaks^ 

enne  de  Seville  sous  la  monarchic  toipe  i   p.  o91. 
dea  Visigoths  (Paris,  1855),  p.  196. 


52  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

their  agony  by  suicide.  •  Among  women  it  was  in  general 
especially  rare ;  and  a  learned  historian  of  smcide  has  even 
asserted  that  a  Spanish  lady,  who,  being  separated  from  her 
husband,  and  fipding  herself  unable  to  resist  the  energy  of 
her  passions,  killed  herself  rather  than  yield  to  temptation, 
is  the  only  instance  of  female  suicide  during  several  centuries.^ 
In  the  romances  of  chivalry,  however,  this  mode  of  death  is 
frequently  pourtrayed  without  horror,^  and  its  criminality 
was  discussed  at  considerable  length  by  Abelard  and  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas,  while  Dante  has  devoted  some  fine  lines  to 
painting  the  condition  of  suicides  in  hell,  where  they  are  also 
fi'equently  represented  in.  the  bas-reliefs  of  cathedrals.  A 
melancholy  leading  to  desperation,  and  known  to  theologians 
under  the  name  of  '  acedia,'  was  not  uncommon  in  monasteries, 
and  most  of  the  recorded  instances  of  mediaeval  suicides  in 
Catholicism  were  by  monks.  The  frequent  suicides  of  monks, 
sometimes  to  escape  the  world,  sometimes  through  despair  at 
their  inability  to  quell  the  propensities  of  the  body,  sometimes 
through  insanity  produced  by  theii-  mode  of  life,  and  by  their 
diead  of  surrounding  demons,  were  noticed  in  the  early  Church,* 


'  Lea's    History  of   Sacerdotal  titionc ;     diffnam     meliori     seculo 

CelUiaey  (Philadelphia,    1867),  p-  founiinam,    insigne   stulium   casti- 

248.  talis.' — De  Rebus  Hispan.  xvi.  17. 

*'Per  lo  corso  di  molti  s^coli  *A   number   of    passages    are 

abbiamo  questo  solo  suicidio  don-  cited  by  Bourquelot. 
nf'sco,  e  buona  cosa  h  non  averne  ''This  is  noticed  by  St.  Grearory 

pin  d'uno ;  perche  io  non  credo  che  Nazianzen  in  a  little  poem  which 

ia  impudicizia  istessa  sia  peggiore  is  given  in  Migne's  edition  of  llu. 

di  questa  disperata  castita.' — Cro-  Greek   Fathers,    tome    xxxvii.    p, 

maziano,  1st.  del.  Suicidio,  p.  126.  14o9.     St.  Nilus  and  the   biogra- 

Mariana,  who,  under  the  frock  of  pher  of  St.  Pachomius    speak  of 

a  Jesuit,  bore  the  heart  of  an  an-  these  suicides,  and  St.  Chrysostom 

cient  Koman,  treats  the  case  in  a  wrote  a  letter  of  consolation  to  a 

very     different     manner.      '  Ejus  young    monk,     named     Stagiriue, 

cxor  Maria  Coronelia  cuia  mariti  which  is  still  extant,  encouraging 

ubseiitiam   non   ferret,  ne    pravis  him  to  resist  the  temptation.     See 

cupidiUitibus  cederet,  vitam  posuit,  Neander,  Ecclesiastical   Bi-^t.   toL 

ardentem  forte  libidinem  igne  ex-  iii.  pp.  319,  320. 
tinguena     adacto     per     muliebria 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE,  t>3 

^li  1  a  few  examples  have  been  gleaned,  from  the  medireval 
clironicles/  of  suicides  produced  by  the  bitterness  of  hopeless 
love,  or  by  the  derangement  that  follows  extreme  austerity. 
These  are,  however,  but  few ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the 
monasteries,  by  providing  a  refuge  for  the  disappointed  and  the 
broken-hearted,  have  prevented  more  suicides  than  they  haye 
caused,  and  that,  during  the  whole  period  of  Catholic  ascend- 
ancy, the  act  was  more  rare  than  before  or  after.  The 
influence  of  Catholicism  was  seconded  by  Mohammedanism, 
which,  on  this  as  on  many  other  points,  borrowed  its  teaching 
from  the  Chi'istian  Church,  and  even  intensified  it;  for 
suicide,  which  is  never  expressly  condemned  in  the  Bible,  is 
more  than  once  forbidden  in  the  Koran,  and  the  Christian 
duty  of  resignation  was  exaggerated  by  the  Moslem  into  a 
complete  fatalism.  Under  the  empire  of  Catholicism  and 
Mohammedanism,  suicide,  during  many  centimes,  almost 
absolutely  ceased  in  all  the  ci-vdlised,  active,  and  progi-essive 
pai-t  of  mankind.  When  we  recollect  how  warmly  it  was 
applauded,  or  how  faintly  it  was  condemned,  in  the  civilisa- 
tion of  Greece  and  Rome;  when  we  remember,  too,  that 
there  was  scarcely  a  barbarous  tribe,  from  Denmark  to  Spain, 
who  did  not  habitually  practise  it,^  we  may  realise  the  com- 

1  Bourquelot.       Pinel     notices  well  as  slavery.    Odin,  who,  under 

(Traite    medico-philosophique     sur  different  rames,  was  the  supreme 

r Alienation  meiitale  (2nd  ed.),  pp.  divinity  of  most  of  the  Northern 

44-46)  the  numerous  cases  of  in-  tribes,  is    said  to  have  ended  his 

sanity    still    produced   by  strong  earthly  life  by  suicide.     Boadicea, 

religious  feeling ;  and  the  history  of  the  grandest  figure  of  early  Briti!^h 

the  movements  called  'revivals,'  in  history,  and  Cordeilla,  or  Cordelia, 

the  present  century,  supplies  much  the  most  pathetic  figure  of  early 

evidence  to  the  same  eifect.     Pinel  British   romance,   were    both   sui- 

says,  religious  insanity  tends  pecu-  cides.     (See  on   the  first,  Tacilas, 

liarly  to  suicide  (p.  265)  Ann.  xiv.  35-37,  and  on  the  second 

*  Orosius  notices   {Hist.  v.  14)  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  ii.  lo— a 

■  that  of  all  the  Gauls  conquered  by  version  from  which  Shakspeare  iias 

Q.  Marcius,  there  were  none  who  considerably  diverged,  but  which  is 

did   not  prefer  death  to  slavery,  faithfully    followed     by    Spenser. 

The   Spaniards   were   famous   for  {Faery  Queen,  book  ii.  canto  10.) 
tlieir  suicides,  to  avoid  old  age  as 

36 


54  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

plete  I  evolution  which  was  effected   in  this  sphere  by   the 
influence  of  Christianity. 

A  few  words  may  be  added  on  the  hater  phases  of  this 
mournful  history.  The  Eeformation  does  not  seem  to  have 
liad  any  immediate  effect  in  multiplying  suicide,  for  Pro- 
testants and  Catholics  held  with  equal  intensity  the  religious 
sentiments  which  are  most  fitted  to  prevent  it,  and  in  none  of 
the  persecutions  was  impatience  of  life  largely  displayed. 
The  history  at  this  period  passes  chiefly  into  the  new  world, 
where  the  unhappy  Indians,  reduced  to  slavery,  and  treated 
with  atrocious  cruelty  by  their  conquerors,  killed  themselves 
in  great  numbers ;  till  the  Spaniards,  it  is  said,  discovered  an 
ingenious  method  of  deterring  them,  by  declaring  that  the 
master  also  would  commit  suicide,  and  would  pursue  his 
victims  into  the  world  of  spirits. '  In  Europe  the  act  was  vei'y 
common  among  the  witches,  who  underwent  all  the  suffer- 
ings with  none  of  the  consolations  of  martyrdom.  Without 
enthusiasm,  without  hope,  without  even  the  consciousness  of 
innrx;ence,  decrepit  in  body,  and  distracted  in  mind,  com- 
pelled in  this  world  to  endure  tortures,  before  which  the 
most  impassioned  heroLsm  might  quail,  and  doomed,  as 
they  often  believed,  to  eternal  damnation  in  the  next,  they 
not  unfretjuently  killed  themselves  in  the  agony  of  their 
de.spair.  A  French  judge  named  Remy  tells  us  that  he  knew 
no  less  than  fifteen  witches  commit  suicide  in  a  single  year.' 


' 'In  our  ago,  when  the  Spani-  severity    into    the     next     life.' — 

nnU  extended  tliat  law  whi<'h  was  Donne's    Biathnyiafos,   p.    56    (ed. 

made   only  against  the  cannibals,  1044).     On    the    evidence   of    the 

■  hat    they   who  would  not  accept  early  travellers   on  this  point,  see 

the  Christian  religion  should  incur  the  essay  on  '  England's  Forgotten 

bondage,   the  Indians   in    infinite  Worthies,'  in   ^Ir.  Fronde's  Short 

Lnmhers   escaped  this    by   killing  Hiudirs. 

themselves,   nnd  never  Cfasod  till  '  Lisle,  pp.  427-434.    Sprcnger 

ihe   f^paniards,  by    some   counter-  has    noticed    the    same    tendency 

foiting.s,    made    them    think    that  among  the  wit*^'hes   he  tried.     See 

they   also   would   kill  theniEolves,  Calmtil,  De  la  Folie  (Paris,  184r>) 

and    follow    them    with   Tie  same  t"tne  i.  pp.  161.  3U3-306. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  55 

la  these  cases,  fear  and  madness  combined  in  urgino'  the 
victims  to  tlie  deed.  Epidemics  of  purely  insane  suicide 
have  also  not  unfrequently  occurred.  Both  the  women  of 
Marseilles  and  the  women  of  Lyons  were  afflicted  with  an 
epidemic  not  unlike  that  which,  in  antiquity,  had  been  no- 
ticed among  the  girls  of  Miletus.'  In  that  strange  mania 
which  raged  in  the  Neapolitan  districts  from  the  end  of  the 
fifteenth  to  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  which 
was  attributed  to  the  bite  of  the  tarantula,  the  patients 
thronged  in  multitudes  towards  the  sea,  and  often,  as  the  blue 
waters  opened  to  their  view,  they  chanted  a  wild  hymn  of 
welcome,  and  rushed  with  passion  into  the  waves. ^  But 
together  with  these  cases,  which  belong  rather  to  the  history 
of  medicine  than  to  that  of  morals,  we  find  many  facts  ex- 
hibiting a  startling  increase  of  deliberate  suicide,  and  a  no 
less  startling  modification  of  the  sentiments  with  which  it 
was  regarded.  The  revival  of  classical  learning,  and  the 
growing  custom  of  regarding  Greek  and  Roman  heroes  as 
ideals,  necessarily  brought  the  subject  into  prominence.  The 
Catholic  casuists,  and  at  a  later  period  philosophers  of  the 
school  of  Grotius  and  Puifendorf,  began  to  distinguish  certain 
cases  of  legitimate  suicide,  such  as  that  committed  to  avoid 
dishonour  or  probable  sin,  or  that  of  the  soldier  who  fires  a 
mine,  knowing  he  must  inevitably  perish  by  the  explosion, 
or  that  of  a  condemned  person  who  saves  himself  from  torture 
by  anticipating  an  inevitable  fate,  or  that  of  a  man  who 
offers  himself  to  death  for  his  friend.  ^     The  efiect  of  the 

'  On  modern  suicides  the  reader  a  verse  of  their  song  :  - 

may  consult  Winslow's  Anatomy  qf  ,  ^^^^  ^.,^.5  ,^5           ,; 

Saccule  ;  as  well  as  the  york  of  M.  g^  ^.^j^^j  ^^^  ^^-  ^^^^^ 

Lisle,  and  also  Esqun-ol,  Maladus  ^Uu  mari,  alia  via, 

mcntales  (Pans,  1838).  tome  1.  pp.  CosI  m'  ama  la  donna  mia, 

,  IT    ,     ,      -r.  -7      •          /•    J7  AUu  man,  allu  man, 

;if -L?'"}"'  '  .^P'^f""''  ,f„  ^^'        Mentre  campo,  f  .iggio  amari. 
Middle  Ages   (London,    1844),    p.  f  >      -00 

121.     Hecker  in  his  very  curious  '  Cromaziano, /5^  dW  Suicidio, 

essay  on  this  mania,  has  preserved     caps.  viii.  ix. 


56  HISTORY    OF    EUROl'EAX    MORALS. 

Pagan  examples  may  frequently  be  detected  in  the  lasi 
woi'ds  or  writings  of  the  suicides.  Philip  Strozzi,  when 
accused  of  the  assassination  of  Alexander  I.  of  Tuscany, 
killed  himself  through  fear  that  torture  might  extort  from 
him  revelations  injurious  to  his  friends,  and  he  left  behind 
him  a  paper  in  which,  among  other  things,  he  commended 
his  soul  to  God,  with  the  prayer  that,  if  no  higher  boon  could 
be  granted,  he  might  at  least  be  permitted  to  have  his  place 
with  Cato  of  Utica  and  the  other  grfeat  suicides  of  antiquity.' 
In  England,  the  act  appears  in  the  seventeenth  century  and  in 
the  first  half  of  the  eighteenth  to  have  been  more  common 
than  upon  the  Continent, ^  and  several  partial  or  even  unquali- 
fied apologies  for  it  were  written.  Sir  Thomas  More,  in 
his  '  Utopia,'  represented  the  priests  and  magistrates  of  his 
ideal  republic  permitting  or  even  enjoining  those  who  were 
afflicted  with  incurable  disease  to  kill  themselves,  but  de- 
priving of  burial  those  who  had  done  so  without  authoiisa- 
tion.^  Dr.  Donne,  the  learned  and  pious  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
had  in  his  youth  written  an  extremely  curious,  subtle,  and 
learned,  but  at  the  same  time  feeble  and  involved,  work  in 
defence  of  suicide,  which  on  his  deathbed  he  commanded  hia 
Bon  neither  to  publish  nor  destroy,  and  which  his  son  pub- 
lished in  1644.  Two  or  three  English  suicides  left  behind 
them  elaborate  defences,  as  did  also  a  Swede  named  Robeck, 
who  drowned  himself  in  1735,  and  whose  treatise,  published 
in  the  following  year,  acquired  considerable  celebrity.*     Bui 

'  Cromaziano,  pp.  92-93.  tw   fogs.     Tlio  statistics  made  in 

*  Montesquieu,  and  many  Con-  the  pn-sent  ctntury  prove   beyond 

tinental  writers,  have  noticed  rliis,  question  that  they  are  most  nume- 

and   most  English  wrilers  of  tlio  lous  in  summer, 

eighteenth  century  seem  to  admit  '  Vlopia.  hook  ii.  ch.  vi. 

the  charge.     Tliero  do  not  appear,  *  A   .sketch    of   Ills  life,  which 

however,    to    have  been  any  accu-  was   railiur    curious,    is   given    by 

rate    etalistics,    and    the   general  Cromaziano,  pp.  118-151.     There 

statements  are  very  untrustworthy,  is. a  long  note  on  the  early  litera- 

Suicidos    were    supposed    to     be  ture  in  defence  of  suicide,   in  Du- 

especially  numerous  under  tiie  de-  mas,  Traitedu  Suicide  (Amsterdam, 

pressing  influence  of  English  win-  1723),  pp.  118-149.     Dumas  wa» 


FROM    CONSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  57 

the  most  influential  writings  about  suicide  were  those  of  the 
French  philosophers  and  revolutionists.  Montaigne,  without 
discussiug  its  abstract  lawfulness,  recounts,  with  much  ad- 
miration, many  of  the  instances  ia  antiquity.'  Montesquieu, 
in  a  youthful  work,  defended  it  with  ardent  enthusiasm.^ 
Rousseau  devoted  to  the  subject  two  letters  of  a  burning  ami 
passionate  eloquence,^  in  the  first  of  which  he  presented  with 
matchless  power  the  arguments  in  its  favour,  while  in  the 
second  he  denounced  those  arguments  as  sophistical,  dilated 
upon  the  impiety  of  abandoning  the  post  of  duty,  and  upon  the 
cowardice  of  despair,  and  with  a  deep  knowledge  of  the  human 
heart  revealed  the  selfishness  that  lies  at  the  root  of  most 
suicide,  exhortiug  all  who  felt  impelled  to  it  to  set  about 
some  work  for  the  good  of  others,  in  which  they  would 
assuredly  find  relief.  Yoltaire,  in  the  best-known  couplet 
he  ever  wrote,  defends  the  act  on  occasions  of  extreme 
necessity.'*  Among  the  atheistical  party  it  was  warmly 
eulogised,  and  Holbach  and  Deslandes  were  promiaent  as  it.s 
defenders.  The  rapid  decomposition  of  religious  opinions 
weakened  the  popular  sense  of  its  enormity,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  humanity  of  the  age,  and  also  a  clearer  sense  of  the 

<a  Protestant  minister  wlio  wrote  '  Essais,  liv.  ii.  ch.  xiii. 
against  suicide.  Among  the  *  Lettres  persanes,  Ixxvi. 
English  apologists  for  suicide  '  Nouvdle  Heloise,  partie  iii. 
(which  he  himself  committed)  was  let.  21-22.  Esquirol  gives  a  curi- 
Blount,  the  translator  of  the  Life  ous  illustration  of  the  way  the 
of  Apolloniiis  of  Ti/a}ia,a.nd  Creech,  influence  of  Eousseau  penetrated 
an  editor  of  Lucretius.  Concern-  through  all  classes.  A  little  child 
ing  the  former  there  is  a  note  in  of  thirteen  committed  suicide, 
Bayle's  Diet.  art.  '  Apollonius.'  leaving  a  writing  beginning  :' Je 
The  latter  is  noticed  by  Voltaire  in  legue  mon  ame  a  Rousseau,  mon 
his  Lettres  PhiloA.  He  wrote  as  a  corps  a  la  Xnrvc.'— Maladies  men- 
meniDrandum  on  the  margin  of  his  tales,  tome  i.  p.  588. 
'Lucretius,'  '  N.B.  When  I  have  <  In  general,  however,  Voltaire 
finished  my  Commenlary  I  must  was  extremely  opposed  to  the  phi- 
kill  myself; '  which  he  accordingly  losophy  of  despair,  but  lieccrtainly 
did — Voltaire  says  to  imiUite  his  approved  of  some  forms  of  ^^uicide. 
favourite  author.  (Voltaire,  Diet.  See  the  articles  '  Catou  '  and  '  Sui- 
phil.  art.  '  Caton.')  cide,'  in  his  Diet,  philos. 


58  HISTORY    OF    KUnOPEAN    MOUALS. 

true  limits  of  legislation,  produced  a  reaction  against  ^e 
horrible  laws  on  the  subject.      Grotius  had  defended  them. 
]Montesquieu  at  first  denounced  them  with  unqualified  energy, 
but  in  his  later  j'ears  in  some  degree  modified  his  opinions. 
]^'eccaria,  who  was,  more  than  any  other  writer,  the  repre- 
Rontative  of  the  opinions  of  the  French  school  on  such  mat- . 
tei-s,   condemned   them   partly   as   unjust   to    the   innocent 
survivors,  partly  as  incapable  of  deterring  any  man  who  was 
resolved  upon  the  act.     Even  in  1749,  in  the  full  blaze  of 
the  philosophic  movement,  we  find  a  suicide  named  Portier 
dragged  through  the  streets  of  Paiis  with  his  face  to  the 
ground,  hung  from  a  gallows  by  his  feet,  and  then  thrown  into 
the  sewers  ; '  and  the  laws  were  not  abrogated  till  the  Revo- 
lution, which,  having  founded  so  many  other  forms  of  freedom, 
accorded  the  liberty  of  death.     Amid  the  dramatic  vicissi- 
tudes, and  the  fierce  entliusiasm  of  that  period  of  convulsions, 
suicides  immediately  multiplied.     '  The  world,'  it  was  said, 
had  been  '  empty  since  the  Romans.'  ^      For  a  brief  period, 
and  in  this  one  country,  the  action  of  Christianity  appeared 
suspended.     Men  seemed  to  be  transported  again  into  the 
age  of  Paganism,  and  the  suicides,  though  more  theatrical, 
were  perpetrated  with  no  less   deliberation,   and  eulogised 
with  no  less  enthusiiism,  than  among  the  Stoics.     But  the 
tide  of  revolution  passed  away,  and  with  some  qualifications 
the  old  opinions  resumed  their  authority.     The  laws  against 
suicide  were,  indeed,  for  the  most  part  aliolished.     In  France 
and  several  other  lands  there  exists  no   legislation  on  the 
subject.     In  other  countries  the  law  simply  enjoins  burial 
without  religious  ceremonies.     In  England,  the  burial  in  p 
highway  and  the  mutilation  by  a  stake  wore  abolished  undei 
Goorge  IV.  ;   but  the  monstrous  injustice  of  confi.^cating  to 
the  Crown  the  entire  pi-opcrty  of  the  deliberate  suicitle  still 

'Lisle,   Du    Suicide,   pp.  411,     Rom.iins.' — St.-Jiist,      Precis     ds 
412.  Danton. 

'    !/•  moi  de  est.  vide  depuis  les 


K1!0.\1    CONSTANIINE    TO    CIIARLKMAGNE.  59 

disgraces  the  statute-book,  though  the  force  of  public  opinion 
and  the  charitable  perjury  of  juries  render  it  inoperative. 

The  common  sentiment  of  Christendom   has,   however^ 
i-atified  the  judgment  which  the  Christian  teachei-s  pronounced 
upon  the  act,  though  it  has  somewhat  modified  the  severity  of 
the  old  censure,  and  has  abandoned  some  of  the  old  ai-gu- 
ments.  It  was  reserved  for  Madame  de  Stael,  who,  in  a  youth- 
ful work  upon  the  Passions,  had  commended  suicide,  to  recon- 
struct this  department  of  ethics,  which  had  been  somewhat 
disturbed  by  the  Revolution,  and  she  did  so  in  a  little  trea- 
tise which  is  a  model  of  calm,  candid,  and  philosophic  piety. 
Frankly  abandoning  the  old  theological   notions   that   the 
deed  is   of    the   nature    of    murder,  that  it  is   the   worst 
of  crimes,   and  that  it   is  always,  or    even    genei-ally,  the 
offspring    of   cowardice ;    al:)andoning,  too,  all   attempts    to 
scare  men  by  religious  terrorism,  she  proceeded,  not  so  much 
to  meet  in  detail  the  isolated  arguments  of   its  defendei-s, 
as  to  sketch  the  ideal  of  a  truly  vu-tuous  man,  and  to  show 
how  such  a  character  would  secure  men  against  all  temp- 
tation to  suicide.     In  pages  of  the  most  tender  beauty,  she 
traced  the  influence  of  sufiering  in  softening,  purifying,  and 
deepening  the  character,  and  showed  how  a  fi^anie  of  habi- 
tual and  submissive  resignation  was  not  only  the  highest 
duty,  but  also  the  source  of  the  purest  consolation,  and  at 
the  same  time  the  appointed  condition  of  moral  ameliora 
tion.      Having  examined  in   detail  the   Biblical   as[>ect   of 
the  question,  she  proceeded  to  show  how  the  true  measiu-e 
of  the  dignity  of  man  is  his  unsel6shness.     She  contrasted 
the  martyi"  with  the  suicide — the  death  which  spring   from 
devotion    to    duty    with    the    death    that    springs    from    res 
bellion  against  circumstances.     The  suicide  of  Cato,  which 
had  been  absurdly  denounced  by  a  crowd  of  ecclesiastics  as 
a;i  act  of  cowardice,  and  as  absurdly  alleged  by  many  suicidea 
as  a  justification  for  flying  from   pain  or  poverty,  she  re- 
presented as  an  act  of  martyrdom-  a  death   like  that   of 


tiO  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS 

Cuitius,  accepted  nobly  for  the  benefit  of  Home.  The  eye 
of  the  good  man  should  be  for  ever  fixed  upon  the  interest  of 
others.  For  them  he  should  be  prepared  to  relinquish  life 
with  all  its  blessings.  For  them  he  should  be  prepai-ed  to 
tolerate  life,  even  when  it  seemed  to  him  a  curse. 

Sentiments  of  this  kind  have,  through  the  influence  of 
Christianity,  thoroughly  pervaded  European  society,  and 
suicide,  in  modem  times,  is  almost  always  found  to  have 
sprung  either  from  absolute  insanity ;  from  diseases  which, 
though  not  amounting  to  insanity,  are  yet  sufficient  to  dis- 
coloiu'  our  judgments ;  or  from  that  last  excess  of  soitow, 
when  resignation  and  hope  are  both  extinct.  Considering  it 
in  this  light,  I  know  few  things  more  fitted  to  qualify  the 
optimism  we  so  often  hear  than  the  fact  that  statistics  show 
it  to  be  rapidly  increasing,  and  to  be  peculiarly'  characteristic 
of  those  nations  which  rank  most  high  in  intellectual  de- 
velopment and  in  general  civilisation.  ^  In  one  or  two  countries, 
strong  religious  feeling  has  counteracted  the  tendency ;  but 
the  comparison  of  town  and  country,  of  different  countries,  of 
different  provinces  of  the  same  country,  and  of  different  periods 
in  history,  proves  conclusively  its  reality.  Many  reasons  may 
be  alleged  to  explain  it.  Mental  occupations  are  peculiarly 
fitted  to  produce  insanity,^  and  the  blaze  of  publicity,  which 
in  modern  time  encircles  an  act  of  suicide,  to  draw  weak 
minds  to  its  imitation.  If  we  put  the  condition  of  absolutely 
.'(avage  life,  out  of  our  calculation,  it  is  probable  that  a  highly 
developed  civilisation,  while  it  i-aises  the  average  of  well-being, 
is  acconipauied  by  more  extreme  misery  and  acute  sufTerings 


'  This   fact  has  Lcen  often  no-  iif^cs,  tliere  is,  fis  in  the  ease  witli 

tic'cd.     The  reader  may  lind  niiiiiy  othiT   forms    of   organic   dcvclop- 

fatatistics  on  tlie  suliject  in  Ijislo,  ment,    a    correhitive   degeneratioa 

Jhi  SiiKidc,aud'Wii)Bh)-w'H  Anatomy  poinp  on,  and  that  an   iniTcaso  of 

0/ Suicide.  insanity    is    a   penalty    which    an 

'  'There  seems  gowl  reason  to  increase  of  our  present  civilisation 

believe,  that  with  the  progress  of  necessarily      pays.'  —  Maudsiey'n 

tiental  development  through  the  Physiology  of  Mind,  ■p.  2{t\. 


FROM    CO.NSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  b'l 

than  the  simpler  stages  that  had  preceded  it.  Nomadic 
Habits,  the  vast  agglomeration  of  men  in  cities,  the  pressure 
of  a  fierce  competition,  and  the  sudden  fluctuations  to  which 
manufactures  are  peculiarly  liable,  are  the  conditions  of  great 
prosperity,  but  also  the  causes  of  the  most  profound  misery. 
Civilisation  makes  many  of  what  once  were  superfluities, 
necessaries  of  life,  so  that  their  loss  inflicts  a  pang  long  after 
their  possession  had  ceased  to  be  a  pleasure.  It  also,  by 
softening  the  character,  renders  it  peculiarly  sensitive  to  pain, 
and  it  brings  with  it  a  long  train  of  antipathies,  passions, 
and  diseased  imaginations,  which  rarely  or  never  cross  the 
thoughts  or  torture  the  nerves  of  the  simple  peasant.  The 
advance  of  religious  scepticism,  and  the  relaxation  of  religious 
discipline,  have  weakened  and  sometimes  destroyed  the  horror 
of  suicide;  and  the  habits  of  self-assertion,  the  eager  and 
restless  ambitions  which  political  liberty,  intellectual  activity, 
and  manufacturing  enterprise,  all  in  their  difierent  ways 
conspire  to  foster,  while  they  are  the  veiy  principles  and 
conditions  of  the  ]:)rogress  of  our  age,  render  the  vii-tue  of 
content  in  all  its  forms  extremely  rare,  and  are  peculiarly 
unpropitious  to  the  formation  of  that  spu'it  of  humble  and 
submissive  resignation  which  alone  can  mitigate  the  agony  of 
hopeless  suiTering. 

From  examining  the  efiect  of  Chi-istianity  in  promoting 
a  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  we  may  now  pass  to  an 
adjoining  field,  and  examine  its  influence  in  promoting  a  fra- 
ternal and  philanthropic  sentiment  among  mankind.  And 
first  of  all  we  may  notice  its  effects  upon  slavery. 

The  reader  will  remember  the  general  jiosition  tliis  insti- 
tution occupied  in  the  eyes  of  the  Stoic  moralists,  and  under 
tho  legislation  which  they  had  in  a  great  measure  inspired. 
The  legitimacy  of  slavery  was  fully  recognised ;  but  Seneca 
and  other  moralists  had  asserted,  in  the  very  strongest  terms, 
llie  natural  equality  of  mankind,  the  superficial  character  of 


62  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  differences  between  the  slave  and  his  master,  and  the 
duty  of  the  most  scrupulous  humanity  to  the  former.  In- 
stances of  a  very  warm  sympathy  between  master  and  sla  ve 
were  of  frequent  occurrence;  but  they  may  unfortunately  he 
paralleled  by  not  a  few  examples  of  the  most  atrocious  cruelty. 
To  guard  against  such  cruelty,  a  long  series  of  enactments, 
Lased  avowedly  upon  the  Stoical  principle  of  the  essential 
equality  of  mankind,  had  been  made  under  Hadrian,  the 
Antonines,  and  Alexanilei  Severus.  Not  to  recapitulate  at 
length  what  has  been  mentioned  in  a  former  chapter,  it  is 
sufficient  to  remind  the  reader  that  the  right  of  life  and  death 
had  been  definitely  withdrawn  from  the  master,  and  that  the 
murder  of  a  slave  was  stigmatised  and  punished  by  the  law. 
It  had,  however,  been  laid  down,  by  the  great  lawyer  Paul, 
that  homicide  implies  an  intention  to  kill,  and  that  thei-efore 
the  master  was  not  guilty  of  that  crime  if  his  slave  died 
under  chastisement  which  was  not  administered  with  this 
intention.  But  the  licence  of  punishment  which  this  dec'sion 
might  give  was  checked  by  laws  which  forbade  excessive 
crtielty  to  slaves,  provided  that,  when  it  was  proved,  they 
should  be  sold  to  another  master,  suppressed  the  pi-ivate 
prisons  in  which  they  liad  been  immured,  and  appointed 
special  officers  to  receive  their  complaints. 

In  the  field  of  legislation,  for  about  two  hundred  years 
after  the  conversion  of  Constantine,  the  progress  was  ex- 
tremely slight.  The  Christian  emperors,  in  a.d.  319  and 
32G,  adverted  in  two  elaborate  laws  to  the  subject  of  the 
murder  of  slaves,'  but,  beyond  reiterating  in  very  emphatic 
terms  the  pi-evious  enactments,  it  is  not  easy  to  see  in  wliat 
way  they  improved   the  condition  of  the  class.'     Thoy  pro- 

'  Cod.  Theod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  12.  imirderiiig  the  slave  of  aiiot  her  man, 

'  Some  Commentators    im:if^ino  while  in  the  Chri'-tiiin  law  it  ■was 

(sco   Muratori,   Anlich.  Itul.  Dis.s.  dctined  as  liomicide,  cqaivalenl  to 

xiv.)  th.it  aniimg  the  Pagans  the  tlio  murder  of  a  freeman.     I  con- 

Diurder  of  a  man's  own  slave  was  fcss,  however,  this  point  does  not 

only  assimilated  tc   tiie   crime   of  ajipear  to  me  at  all  clear. 


FROM    CONSTANTIxNE    TO    CHAULiiMAGNE.  63 

rided  that  any  master  "who  applied  to  Lis  slave  certain 
atrocious  tortui-es,  that  are  enumerated,  with  the  object  of 
killing  him,  should  be  deemed  a  homicide,  but  if  the  slave. 
died  under  moderate  punishment,  or  under  any  punishment 
not  intended  to  kill  him,  the  master  should  be  blameless  ;  no 
charge  whatever,  it  was  emphatically  said,  should  be  brought 
against  him.  It  has  been  supposed,  though  I  think  without 
evidence,  by  commentators  ^  that  this  law  accorded  immimity 
to  the  master  only  when  the  slave  perished  under  the  appli- 
£ation  of  '  appropriate '  or  servile  punishments — that  is  to 
eay,  scourging,  irons,  or  imprisonment ;  but  the  use  of  torture 
not  intended  to  kill  was  in  no  degree  restricted,  nor  is  there 
anything  in  the  law  to  make  it  appear  either  that  the  master 
was  liable  to  punishment,  if  contrary  to  his  intention  his 
slave  succumbed  beneath  torture,  or  that  Constantine  pro- 
posed any  penalty  for  excessive  cruelty  which  did  not  result 
in  death.  It  is,  perhaps,  not  out  of  place  to  observe,  that  this 
law  was  in  remai-kable  harmony  with  the  well-known  article 
of  the  Jewish  code,  which  provided  that  if  a  slave,  wounded 
to  death  by  his  master,  linger  for  a  day  or  two,  the  mastei- 
should  not  be  punished,  for  the  slave  was  his  money.^ 

The  two  features  that  were  most  revolting  in  the  skvc 
system,  as  it  passed  from  the  Pagan  to  the  Chiistian  emperors, 
were  the  absolute  want  of  legal  recognition  of  slave  marriage, 
and  the  licence  of  torturing  still  conceded  to  the  master. 
The  Christian  emperors  before  Justinian  took  no  serious 
steps  to  remedy  either  of  these  evils,  and  the  measures  that 
were  taken  against  adultery  still  continued  inapplicable  to 
slave  unions,  because  '  the  vileness  of  their  condition  makcg 
them  unworthy  of  the  observation  of  the  law.''  The  aboli- 
tion of  the  punishment  of  crucifixion  had,  however,  a  sjjecial 

'  SeeGodefroy's  Coi7u/ieutarj/  on  Cod.  Tkiod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  7.     See  on 

these  laws.  this  law,  Wallon,  tome  iii.  pp.  417. 

2  Exodus  xxi.  21.  418. 

•'Quas    vilitates   vitse  dignas  Dean Milman  observes.  '  In  the 

legura  observatione  non  credidit.' —  old  Roman  society  in  the  Easteir 


64  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

value  to  the  slave  class,  and  a  very  merciful  law  of  Conslan- 
tijie  forbade  the  separation  of  the  families  of  the  slaves.' 
Another  law,  which  in  its  effects  was  perhaps  still  more 
important,  imparted  a  sacred  character  to  manumission, 
ordaining  that  the  ceremony  should  be  celebrated  in  thfi 
Church,'^  and  permitting  it  on  Simdays.  Some  measures 
were  also  taken,  providing  for  the  fi'eedom  of  the  Christian 
slaves  of  Jewish  masters,  and,  in  two  or  three  cases,  freedom 
was  offered  as  a  bribe  to  slaves,  to  induce  them  to  inform 
against  criminals.  Intermarriage  between  the  free  and  slave 
classes  was  still  strictly  forbidden,  and  if  a  free  woman  had 
improper  intercourse  with  her  slave,  Constantine  ordered 
that  the  woman  should  be  executed  and  the  slave  burnt 
alive.^  By  the  Pagan  law,  the  woman  had  been  simply  I'c- 
duced  to  slavery.  The  laws  against  fugitive  slaves  were  also 
rendered  more  severe.  "• 

This  legislation  may  on  the  whole  be  looked  upon  as  a 
progress,  but  it  certainly  does  not  deserve  the  enthusiasm 
which  ecclesiastical  writei-s  have  sometimes  bestowed  upon 
it.  For  about  two  hundred  year's,  there  was  an  almost  ab- 
solute pause  in  the  legislation  on  this  subject.  Some  slight 
restrictions  were,  however,  imposed  upon  the  use  of  torture 
in  trials ;  some  slight  additional  facilities  of  manumission 
were  given,  and  some  very  atrocious  enactments  made  to 
prevent  slaves  accusing  their  mastei-s.  According  to  that  of 
Gratian,  any  slave  who  accuseil  his  master  cf  any  offence, 


Empire  this  distinction  between  the  riage  of  the  slave  ;  but  the  authc- 
marriage  of  the  freeman  and  the  rity  of  tlie  emperor  was  counter- 
concubinage  of  the  slave  was  lonj?  aeted  l)ylhe  dee|)-rootpd  prejudices 
recognised    by   Christianity    itself  of  centuries.'  — ///,sV.q/Z,a/J«  CViri.*- 
These  unions  were  not  blessed,  as  tianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  lo. 
the  marriases  of  their  superiors  had  '  Cod.  Theod.  \\h.  ii.  tit.  '25. 
won  begun  Ut  be,  by  the  Church.            '  Hid.  lib.  iv.  tit.  7- 
Ba^il    the    Macedonian    (a.d.  867-           '  Ibid.  lib.  ix.  tit.  9. 
886)  firs'  enacted  that  the  priestly  '  Corpus  Juris,  vi.  1. 
benediction  should  hallow  the  mar- 


FROM    CON.-TA.NTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE  65 

except   high   treason,  should   immediately  be   burnt   alive, 
without  auy  investigation  of  the  justice  of  the  charge.' 

Under  Justinian,  however,  new  and  very  important  mea- 
sures were  taken.  In  no  other  sphere  were  the  laws  of  thij 
emperor  so  indisputably  an  advance  upon  those  of  his  prede- 
cessors. His  measures  may  be  comprised  vmder  three  heads. 
In  the  first  place,  all  the  restrictions  upon  enfranchisement 
which  had  accumulated  under  the  Pagan  legislation  were 
abolished ;  the  legislator  proclaimed  in  emphatic  language. 
and  by  the  provisions  of  many  laws,  his  desire  to  encourage 
manumission,  and  free  scope  was  thus  given  to  the  action 
of  the  Church.  In  the  second  place,  the  freedmen,  considered 
as  an  intermediate  class  between  the  slave  and  the  citizen, 
were  virtually  abolished,  all  or  nearly  all  the  privileges 
accorded  to  the  citizen  being  gi-anted  to  the  emancipated 
slave.  This  was  the  most  important  contribution  of  the 
Chi'istian  emperors  to  that  great  amalgamation  of  nations 
and  classes  which  had  been  advancing  since  the  days  of  Au- 
gustus ;  and  one  of  its  effects  was,  that  any  person,  even  of 
senatorial  rank,  might  marry  a  slaA^e  when  he  had  first 
emancipated  her.  In  the  third  place,  a  slave  was  permitted 
to  marry  a  free  woman  with  the  authorisation  of  his  master, 
and  children  born  in  slaveiy  became  the  legal  heii*s  of 
their  emancipated  father.  The  rape  of  a  slave  woman  whs 
also  in  this  reign  punished,  like  that  of  a  free  woman,  by 
death.2 

But,  important  as  were  these  measures,  it  is  not  in  the 
field  of  legislation  that  we  must  chiefly  look  for  the  influence 
of  Christianity  upon  slavery.  This  inliuence  wa.s  indeed  very 
great,  but  it  is  necessary  carefully  to  define  its  nature.  The 
prohibition  of  all  slavery,  which  was  one  of  the  peculiaritiea 
of  the  Jewish  Essenes,  and  the  illegitimacy  of  hereditaij 


•  Cod.  Theod.  lib.  vi.  tit.  2.  Wallou,    fome    iii.  ;    Champaguj 

•See    on  all    this    legislation,     Chariti  chritienne,  t^\).  2\\-2'2^. 


6G  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

slavery,  wliich  was  one  of  the  speculations  of  tlie  Stoic  Dion 
Clirysostom,  had  no  place  in  the  ecclesiastical  teaching. 
Slavery  was  distinctly  and  formally  recognised  by  Christ- 
ianity,' and  no  religion  ever  laboured  more  to  encourage  a 
habit  of  docility  and  passive  obedience.  Much  was  indeed 
said  by  the  Fathers  about  the  natural  equality  of  mankind, 
about  the  duty  of  regarding  slaves  as  brothers  or  companions, 
and  about  the  heinousness  of  cruelty  to  them  ;  but  all  tliia 
had  been  said  with  at  least  equal  force,  though  it  had  not  been 
disseminated  over  an  equally  wide  area,  by  Seneca  and  Epic- 
tetus,  and  the  pi-inciple  of  the  original  freedom  of  all  men  was 
repeatedly  averred  by  the  Pagan  lawyers.  The  services  of 
Christianity  in  this  sphere  were  of  three  kinds.  It  supplied 
a  new  order  of  relations,  in  which  the  distinction  of  classes 
wavS  unknown.  It  imparted  a  moral  dignity  to  the  servile 
classes,  and  it  gave  an  unexampled  impetus  to  the  movement 
of  enfranchisement. 

The  first  of  these  services  was  effected  by  the  Church 
ceremonies  and  the  penitential  discipline.  In  these  spheres, 
from  which  the  Christian  mind  derived  its  earliest,  its 
deepest,  and  its  most  enduring  impressions,  the  difference 
between  the  master  and  his  slave  was  unknown.  They  re- 
ceived the  sacred  elements  together,  they  sat  side  by  side  at 
the  agape,  they  mingled  in  the  public  prayers.  In  the  penal 
system  of  the  Church,  the  distinction  between  wrongs  done 
to  a  freeman,  and  wrongs  done  to  a  slave,  which  lay  at  the 
very  root  of  the  whole  civil  legislation,  was  repudiated.  At 
a  time  when,  by  the  civil  law,  a  master,  whose  slave  died  as 
a  consequence  of  excessive  scourging,  was  absolutely  un- 
puni.shed,  the  Council  of  Illiberis  excluded  that  master  for 


'  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  too,  'hat  of  Ham.     f^ce  a  number  of  pas.tngej 

thejasticoofsliivcry  was  frequently  noticed  by  ^loehlor,  Zifi  (Uiristiau' 

ba.sed  by  the  Fathers,  as  by  modern  isme  et   V F.sdavage   (trad,  franq.) 

defenders  of  slavery,  on  the  curse  pp.  151-1.52. 


FKOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  67 

ever  from  the  communion.'  The  chastity  of  female  slaves, 
for  the  protection  of  which  the  civil  law  made  but  little  pro- 
vision, was  sedulously  guarded  by  the  legislation  of  the  Chirrch. 
Slave  birth,  moreover,  was  no  disqualification  for  entering 
into  the  priesthood;  and  an  emancipated  slave,  regarded  as 
the  dispenser  of  spii-itual  life  and  death,  often  saw  the 
gi-eatest  and  the  most  wealthy  kneeling  humbly  at  his  feet 
imploring  his  absolution  or  his  benediction.^ 

In  the  next  place,  Christianity  imparted  a  moral  dignity 
to  the  ser\'ile  class.  It  did  this  not  only  by  associating 
poverty  and  labour  with  that  monastic  life  which  was  so  pro- 
foundly revered,  but  also  by  introducing  new  modifications 
into  the  ideal  ty|3e  of  morals.  There  is  no  fact  more  promi- 
nent in  the  Roman  •mit3rs  than  the  profound  contempt  with 
which  they  regarded  slaves,  not  so  much  on  account  of  their 
position,  as  on  account  of  the  character  which  that  position 
had  formed.  A  servile  character  was  a  synonym  for  a  vicious 
one.  Cicero  had  declared  that  notlxincr  great  or  noble  could 
exist  in  a  slave,  and  the  plays  of  Plautus  exhibit  the  same  esti- 
mate in  every  scene.  There  were,  it  is  true,  some  exceptions. 
Epictetus  had  not  only  been,  but  had  been  recognised  as  one  of 
the  noblest  characters  of  Rome.  The  fidelity  of  slaves  to 
their  masters  had  been  frequently  extolled,  and  Seneca  in 
this,  as  in  other  respects,  had  been  the  defender  of  the  op- 


Tlie  penaltj',  howcTer,  appears  fruit  Wripht's  letter  On  ihe  Poli- 

to  hare  been  reduced  to  two  years'  tical  Condition  of  the  Eiifflu<k  Peek- 

exclusion  from  communion.    Mura-  s«7J^?v/,  and  Moehier,  p.  186. 
tori  says:  'In  piu  consili  si  truova  ''On   the    great    multitude    of 

deeretato,   "  excommunicatitme  vel  emani-ipat«l  slaves -who  entered,  and 

poenirentire  bicnnii  esse  sul'jicion-  atone  time  almost  monopolised,  tiie 

duin  qui  servum  proprium  sine  con-  ecclesiastical  ottices, compare  Moeh- 

scientia  judicis  occidtrit."' — Au-  \vt,  Le  Christianitnuc  ct  I'Eidavage, 

tic\.  Ital.  L\s9.  ^\v.  pp.  177-178.     Leo  the  Great  tried 

Besides  the  ■works  which  treat  to  prevent  slaves   being  raised  t€ 

generally  of  the  penitential  di.sci-  the  priestly  office,  because  it  would 

pline,  the  reader  may  consult  with  degrade  the  latter. 


b'8  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

pressed.  Still  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  tliis  contempt  "waa 
general,  and  also  that  in  the  Pagan  woi-ld  it  ■was  to  a  great 
extent  just.  Every  age  has  its  own  moral  ideal,  to  which  all 
virtuous  men  aspire.  Every  sphere  of  life  has  also  a  teid- 
ency  to  produce  a  distinctive  type  being  specially  favourable 
to  some  particular  class  of  virtues,  and  specially  unfavourable 
to  others.  The  popular  estimate,  and  even  the  real  moral 
condition,  of  each  class  depends  chiefly  upon  the  degi-ee  in 
which  the  ty]3e  of  character  its  position  naturally  develops, 
coincides  with  the  ideal  type  of  the  age.  Now,  if  we  remem- 
ber that  magnanimity,  self-reliance,  dignity,  independence, 
and,  in  a  word,  elevation  of  character,  constituted  the  Roman 
ideal  of  perfection,  it  will  appear  evident  that  this  was  pre- 
eminently the  type  of  freemen,  and  that  the  condition  of 
slavery  was  in  the  very  highest  degree  unfavourable  to  its 
development.  Christianity  for  the  first  time  gave  the  servile 
virtues  the  foremost  place  in  the  moral  type.  Humility, 
obedience,  gentleness,  patience,  resignation,  are  all  cardinal 
or  rudimentary  virtues  in  the  Christian  character ;  they  were 
all  neglected  or  underrated  by  the  Pagans;  tbcy  can  all  ex- 
pand and  flourish  in  a  servile  position. 

Tlie  influence  of  Christianity  upon  slavery,  by  inclining  the 
moral  type  to  the  servile  classes,  though  less  obvious  and  less 
discussed  than  some  others,  is,  I  believe,  in  the  very  highest  de- 
gi-ee  impoi-tant.  There  is,  probably,  scarcely  any  other  single 
circumstance  that  exercises  so  profound  an  influence  upon 
the  social  and  political  relations  of  a  i-eligion,  as  the  qlass 
type  with  which  it  can  mo.st  readily  assimilate;  or,  in  other 
words,  the  gi-oiip  or  variety  of  virtues  to  wldch  it  gives  the 
foremost  place.  The  virtues  that  arc  most  suited  to  the 
sei-vile  position  were  in  general  so  little  honoured  by  anti- 
quity that  they  were  not  even  cultivated  in  their  appropriate 
c{»here.  The  aspirations  of  good  men  were  in  a  different 
dii-ection.  Tlie  virtue  of  the  Stoic,  which  rose  triumphantly 
under  adversity,  nearly  always  withered  under  degradation. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  69 

For  the  first  time,  under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  a  great 
moral  movement  passed  through  the  sei^vile  class.  The  mul- 
titude of  slaves  who  embi-aced  the  new  faith  was  one  of  the 
reproaches  of  the  Pagans;  and  the  names  of  Blandina,  Pota- 
mitiena,  Eutvches,  Yictorinus,  and  Neieus,  show  how  full) 
thev  shared  in  the  sufferings  and  ia  the  glory  of  martyr- 
doiQ.'  The  fii-st  and  grandest  edifice  of  Bvzantiue  architec- 
ture  in  Italy — the  noble  church  of  St.  Vital,  at  Eavenna— 
»vas  dedicated  by  Justinian  to  the  memory  of  a  martyred 
slave. 

Wh.'le  Christianity  thus  broke  down  the  contempt  with 
which  the  master  had  regarded  his  slaves,  and  planted  among 
the  latter  a  principle  of  moral  regeneration  which,  expanded 
in  no  other  sphere  with  an  equal  perfection,  its  action  in 
procuring  the  freedom  of  the  slave  was  unceasing.  The  la  w 
of  Constantine,  which  placed  the  ceremony  under  the  suj>eriu- 
tendence  of  the  clergy,  and  the  many  laws  that  gave  special 
facilities  of  manumission  to  those  who  desired  to  enter 
the  monasteries  or  the  priesthood,  symbolised  the  religious 
character  the  act  had  assumed.  It  was  celebrated  on  Church 
festivals,  especially  at  Easter ;  and,  although  it  was  not  pro- 
claimed a  matter  of  duty  or  necessity,  it  was  always  regarded 
as  one  of  the  most  acceptable  modes  of  expiating  past  sins. 
St.  Melania  w^as  said  to  have  emanci))ated  8,000  slaves ;  St. 
0-\-idius,  a  rich  martyr  of  Gaul,  5,000  ;  Chromatins,  a  Roman 
prefect  under  Diocletian,  1,400;  Hermes,  a  prefect  in  the 
reign  of  Trajan,  1,250.*  Pope  St.  Gregory,  many  of  the 
clergy  at  Hippo  imder  the  rule  of  St.  Augustine,  as  well 
as  great  numbei-s  of  private  individuals,  freed  their  .slaves  a.s 
an  act  of  piety.'     It  became  customary  to  do  so  on  occasions 

'  See  a  most  admirable disserta-  p. 210.  These numbersare.nodoulit, 

tion  on  this  subject  in  Le  Blant,  exaggerated;  soe  Wallon,  Hist,  dt 

Inscriptions  chretienncs  de  la  Gaule,  VEkclavage,  tome  iii.  p.  38. 
tome   ii.  pp.    284-299  ;     Gibbon's  *  See'Schmidt,  La  SociiU  cii'iU 

Decline  and  Fall,  ch.  xsxviii.  dans  le  Monde  romain,  pp.  24ft. 

*  ChajXL;piigny .CharUe  chreticnTic,  248. 

Z7 


70  HItlTOKY    OF    EUROPEAJ^    WORALS. 

of  national  or  personal  thanksgiving,  on  recovery  from  sick- 
ness, on  the  bii-th  of  a  child,  at  the  honr  of  death,  and,  above 
all,  in  testamentary  be(i[uests.'  Numerous  charters  and  epi- 
taphs still  record  the  gift  of  liberty  to  slaves  throughout  tho 
middle  ages,  '  for  the  benefit  of  the  soul '  of  the  donor  or 
testator.  In  the  thirteenth  century,  when  there  were  no 
slaves  to  emancipate  in  France,  it  was  usual  in  many  churchea 
to  release  caged  pigeons  on  the  ecclesiastical  festivals,  in 
memory  of  the  ancient  charity,  and  that  prisoners  might  still 
he  treed  in  the  name  of  Christ.  ^ 

Slavery,  however,  lasted  in  Europe  for  about  800  years 
after  Constantino,  and  during  the  period  with  which  alone 
this  volume  is  concerned,  although  its  character  was  changed 
and  mitigated,  the  number  of  men  who  were  subject  to  it 
was  probably  greater  than  in  the  Pagan  Empire.  In  the 
West  the  barbarian  conquests  mothfied  the  conditions  of 
labour  in  two  directions.  The  cessation  of  tho  stream  of  bar- 
barian cai)tives,  the  impoverishment  of  great  families,  who 
had  been  surrounded  by  vast  retinues  of  slaves,  the  general 
diminution  of  to^vn  life,  and  the  barlsarian  habits  of  pcv- 
fional  independence,  checked  the  old  form  of  slavery,  whi'e 
the  misery  and  the  precarious  condition  of  the  free  pea-santc 
induced  them  in  great  numbers  to  barter  their  liberty  for 
protection  by  the  neighbouring  lord.^     In  the  East,  the  de- 


'  Muratori  has  devoted  two  va-  194-196;    Rviin's    History   of  the 

liiahle   dissertations  {Anfich.  Hal.  Efec/s  of  Ri'fii/ian  upon  Mankind, 

%\v.  3tv.)  to  inedineval  sl-ivery.  pp.  142.  14.3.) 

^  ()z;in;ini's  Hid.  of  Civilisation  '  Salvian,   in   a  fimoiis  pa.ssage 

in  the  Fifth  Century  (Eng.  tran.s.),  {De  Guhirnatione  Dei,  lih.  v.),  iio- 

Tol.  ii.  p.  43.     St.  Adelbort,  Arch-  tiros   tho  multitudes  of  poor  who 

bishop  of  Vta^poX,  tho  end  of  tho  voluntarily  became  'coloni'  for  tho 

tent  Ji  century,  was  especially  famous  sake  of  protection  and  a  livelihood, 

for  his  opposition  to  tho  slave  trade.  Tlio  coloni,  wlio -were  attached  to 

In  Swo'len,  tho  abolition  of  slavery  tho  soil,  were  much  the  same  as  tie 

in  iho  thirteenth  cenfurywas  avow-  niedijeval  serfs.     We  have  already 

vlly  acomplishwl  in  obedience  tc  noticed  tliem  coming  into  beirijj;,  ap- 

Chnstian  principles.    (Moehler,  7>tf  patently  when  the  Roman  empcrorf 

Chri'itianvime    ct    I'Eadavage,   pp,  settled  barbarian  prisoners  to  col- 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    ClIAKLEMAGNE.  71 

struction  of  great  fortunes  throngli  excessive  taxation  dimi- 
nished the  number  of  superfluous  slaA^es ;  and  the  fiscal  system 
of  the  Byzantine  Empire,  by  which  agricultural  slaves  were 
taxed  according  to  their  employments,'  as  well  as  the  desire 
of  emperors  to  encom'age  agriculture,  led  the  legislators  to 
attach  the  slaves  permanently  to  the  soil.  In  the  course  of 
time,  almost  the  entire  free  peasantry,  and  the  greater  num- 
ber of  the  old  slaves,  had  sunk  or  risen  into  the  qualified 
slavery  called  seifdom,  which  formed  the  basis  of  the  great 
edifice  of  feudalism.  Towards  the  end  of  the  eighth  century, 
the  sale  of  slaves  beyond  their  native  provinces  was  in  most 
countries  prohibited. ^  The  creation  of  the  fiee  cities  of  Italy, 
the  custom  of  emancipating  slaves  who  were  eni-olled  in  the 
army,  and  economical  changes  which  made  free  labour  more 
profitable  than  slave  labour,  conspii-ed  with  religious  moti%es 
in  efiecting  the  ultimate  freedom  of  labour.  The  practice  of 
manumitting,  as  an  act  of  devotion,  continued  to  the  end ; 
but  the  ecclesiastics,  probably  through  the  feeling  that  they 
had  no  right  to  alienate  corporate  property,  in  which  they  had 
only  a  life  interest,  were  among  the  last  to  follow  the  coun- 
sels they  so  liberally  bestowed  upon  the  laity.'  In  the  twelfth 
century,  however,  slaves  in  Europe  were  very  rare.  In  the 
fourteenth  century,  slavery  was  almost  unknown."* 

tivate  the  desert  lands  of  Italy;  le  chicse,  e  i  monisteri,  non  per 
and  before  the  barbarian  invasions  altra  cagione,  a  mio  credere,  se  non 
their  numbers  seem  to  have  much  perciii  lamanumissioneeunaspezie 
increased.  M.  Guizot  has  devoted  di  alienazionc,ed  oradai  canoni pro- 
two  chapters  to  this  subject.  {Hist,  ibito  I'alienare  i  beiii  delie  chiese.' 
de  la  Civilisation  en  France,  vii.  — MurMtori,  Dissert,  xv.  Some 
viii.)  Councils,  however,  recognised  the 

'  See  Finlay's  Hist,  of  Greece,  right    of    bishops    to    emancipate 

vol.  i.  p.  241.  "  Cluirch  slaves.  Mochlor,  Z,e  CAm- 

'^  Moehler,  p.  181.  tianisme    ct     V I<2sclarage,    p.    187. 

'' Non  v'ora  anticamente  signer  Many  peasants  placed   tiiemselves 

secolare,  vescovo,  abbate,   capitolo  under  the  dominion  of  the  monks, 

di    canonici  e  monistero    che    non  as  being  the  best  masters,  and  also 

avesse  al  suo  servigio  molti  scrvi.  toobtain  thebenefitof  theirprajors. 
Molto   frequentoment*   solevano  i  *  Muratori ;    Hallam's     Muldli 

secoiari  manometterli.     Non    cosi  Ages,  ch.  ii.  jvart  ii. 


/2  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Closely  connected  with  the  influence  of  the  Church  in  ile 
stroyins;  hereditary  slavery,  was  its  influence  in  redeeming 
captives  from  servitxide.  In  no  other  form  of  charity  was  its 
beneficial  character  more  continually  and  more  splendidly 
dis])layed.  During  the  long  and  dreary  trials  of  the  barl)arian 
invasions,  when  the  whole  structure  of  society  was  dislo- 
cated, when  vast  districts  and  mighty  cities  were  in  a  few 
months  almost  depopulated,  and  when  the  flower  of  the  youth 
of  Italy  were  mown  down  by  the  sword,  or  carried  away 
into  captivity,  the  bishops  never  desisted  from  their  efibrts  to 
alleviate  the  sufierings  of  the  prisoners.  St.  Ambrose,  disre- 
garding the  outcries  of  the  Arians,  who  denounced  his  act  as 
atrocious  sacrilege,  sold  the  rich  church  ornaments  of  Milan 
to  rescue  some  captives  who  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Goths,  and  this  practice — which  was  afterwards  formally 
sanctioned  by  St.  Gregory  the  Great — became  speedily  general. 
When  the  Roman  army  had  captured,  but  refused  to  support, 
seven  thousand  Persian  prisoners,  Acacius,  Bishop  of  Amida, 
undeterred  by  the  bitter  hostility  of  the  Persians  to  Christi- 
anity, and  declaring  that  '  God  had  no  need  of  plates  or 
dishes,*  sold  all  the  rich  chuich  ornaments  of  his  diocese, 
rascued  the  unbelieving  prisoners,  and  sent  them  back  un- 
harmed to  their  king.  During  the  horrors  of  the  "Vandal 
invasion,  Deogratias,  Bishop  of  Carthage,  took  a  similar  step 
to  ransom  the  Roman  prisoners.  St.  Augustine,  St.  Gregory 
the  Great,  St.  Caesarius  of  Aries,  St.  Exuperius  of  Toulouse, 
St.  Hilary,  St.  Remi,  all  melted  down  or  sold  their  church 
va.ses  to  free  prisoners.  St.  Cyprian  sent  a  large  sum  for  the 
same  purpose  to  the  Bishop  of  Nicomedia.  St.  Epiphanius 
and  St.  Avitus,  in  conjunction  with  a  rich  Gaulish  lady 
named  Syagi-ia,  are  said  to  have  rescued  thousands.  St. 
Eligius  devoted  to  this  object  his  entire  fortune.  St.  Paulinus 
of  Nola  displayed  a  similar  generosity,  and  the  legends  even 
assert,  though  untruly,  that  he,  like  St.  Peter  Teleonaiiua 
and  St.  Serapion,  having  exhausted  all  other  forms  of  charity., 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE  73 

BE  a  last  gift  sold  himself  to  slavery.      When,  long  after- 
wards, the  Mohammedan  conquests  in  a  measure  reproduced 
the  calamities  of  the  barbaiian  invasions,  the  same  unwearied 
charity  was  displayed.  The  Trinitarian  monks,  founded  by  John 
of  Matha  in  the  twelfth  century,  were  devoted  to  the  release 
of  Christian  captives,  and  another  society  was  founded  with 
the  same  object  by  Peter  Nolasco,  in  the  following  century.  • 
The  different  branches  of  the  subject  I  am  examining  are 
so  closely  intertwined  that  it  is  difficult  to  investigate  one 
without  in  a  measure  anticipating  the  others.     While  dis- 
cussing the  influence  of  the  Church  in  protecting  infancy,  in 
raising  the  estimate  of  human  life,  and  in  alleviating  slavery, 
I  have  trenched  largely  upon  the  last  application  of  the 
doctrine  of  Christian  fraternity  I  must  examine — I  mean  the 
foundation  of  charity.     The  difiference  between  Pagan  and 
Chi'istian  societies  in  this  matter  is  very  profound ;  but  a 
great  part   of  it   must  be   ascribed   to   causes  other  than 
•  religious   opinions.      Charity   finds  an  extended   scope  for 
action  only,  where  there  exists  a  laige  class  of  men  at  once 
independent   and  impoveiished.     In   the   ancient   societies, 
slavery  in   a   great   measure   replaced  pauperLsm,   and,   by 
securing  the  subsistence  of  a  very  large  proportion  of  the 
poor,  contracted  the  sphere  of  charity.     And  what  slavery 
did  at  Rome  for  the  very  poor,  the  system  of  clientage  did 
for  those  of  a  somewhat  higher  rank.    The  existence  of  these 
two  institutions  is  sufficient  to  show  the  injustice  of  judging 
the  two  societies  by  a  mere  compaiison  of  their  charitable 
institutions,  and  we  must  also  remember  that  among  the 
ancients  the  i-elief  of  the  indigent  was  one  of  the  most  iu)- 
portant  functions  of  the  State.     Not  to  dwell  upon  the  many 
measures  taken  with  this  object  in  ancient  Greece,  in  con- 
sidering the  condition  of  the  Roman  poor  we  ai-e  at  once  met 

'  Sep,  on  this  subject,  Eyan,  pp.  and  especially  Le  Blant,  Inscrip- 
151-152  ;  Cibrario,  Economica  po-  iions  chreliennes  de  la  Gaule,  tome 
titica  del  Medio  Evo,  lib.  iii.  cap.  ii.,     ii.  pp.  284-299. 


74  HISTORY    OF    ELEOPEAX    MORALS. 

by  tlie  simple  fact  that  for  se^'el■al  centuries  the  immense 
majority  of  these  were  habitually  supported  by  gi-atuitoua 
distributions  of  com.  In  a  very  eaily  period  of  Roman 
history  vre  find  occasional  instances  of  distribution ;  but  i*" 
was  not  till  A.u.c.  630  that  Caius  Gracchus  caused  a  law  to 
be  made,  supplying  the  poorer  classes  with  corn  at  a  price 
that  was  little  more  than  nominal ;  and  although,  two  yeai-a 
after,  the  nobles  succeeded  in  revoking  this  law,  it  was  after 
several  fluctuations  finally  re-enacted  in  a.u.c.  679.  The 
Cassia-Terentia  law,  as  it  was  called  from  the  consuls  under 
whom  it  waa  at  last  established,  was  largely  extended  in  its 
operation,  or,  as  some  think,  revived  from  neglect  in  A.u.c. 
G91,  by  Cato  of  Utica,  who  desii-ed  by  this  means  to  divert 
popularity  from  the  cause  of  Caesar,  under  whom  multitudes 
of  the  poor  were  enrolling  themselves.  Four  years  later, 
Clodius  Pulcher,  abolishing  the  small  payment  which  had 
been  demanded,  made  the  distribution  entirely  gratuitous. 
It  took  place  once  a  month,  and  consisted  of  five  modii '  a 
head.  In  the  time  of  Julius  Ciesar  no  less  than  320,000 
persons  weio  inscribed  as  recipients ;  but  Cajsar  reduced  the 
number  by  one  half.  Under  Augustus  it  had  risen  to 
200,000.  This  emperor  desired  to  restrict  the  distribution 
of  corn  to  three  or  four  times  a  year,  but,  yielding  to  the 
populiu'  wLsh,  ho  at  la.st  consented  that  it  should  continue 
monthly.  It  soon  became  the  leading  fjict  of  Roman  life. 
Numerous  officei"S  were  appointed  to  provide  it.  A  severe 
legislation  controlled  their  acts,  and  to  secure  a  regular  and 
abundant  supply  of  com  for  the  capital  became  the  principal 
obj(>ct  of  the  ])rovincial  governors.  Under  the  Antonines  the 
numljer  of  the  recipients  had  cortsiderably  increased,  having 
Bomotimcs,  it  is  said,  exceeded  500,000.  Septimus  Severua 
a-Mid  to  the  com  a  ration  of  oil.     Aurelian  replaced  the 


'  About  fith«  of  a  Lushul.     Sco  Ilume'u  Enaay  on  the  Vopulotisntet 
tj  Ancient  S'atioiu. 


FUOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  <5 

monthly  distribution  of  unground  com  by  a  daily  distribution 
of  bread,  and  added,  nioreoA-er,  a  portion  of  pork.  Gratuitous 
distributions  were  afterwards  extended  to  Constantinople, 
Alexandria,  and  Antioch,  and  were  probably  not  altogether 
unknown  in  smaller  towns.  ^ 

We  have  ali-eady  seen  that  tliis  gratuitous  distribution  ol 
corn  ranked,  with  the  institution  of  slavery  and  tlie  gladia- 
toiial  exlubitions,  as  one  of  the  chief  demoralising  influences 
of  the  Empire.  The  most  injudicious  charity,  however  per- 
nicious to  the  classes  it  is  intended  to  relieve,  has  commonly 
a  beneficial  and  softening  influence  upon  the  donor,  and 
through  him  upon  society  at  large.  But  the  Roman  distri- 
bution of  corn,  being  merely  a  political  device,  had  no 
humanising  influence  upon  the  people,  while,  being  regulated 
only  by  the  indigence,  and  not  at  all  by  the  infirmities  or 
character,  of  the  recipient,  it  was  a  direct  and  overwhelming 
encouragement  to  idleness.  With  a  provision  of  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  and  with  an  abundant  supply  of  amusements,  the 
poor  Romans  readily  gave  up  honourable  labour,  all  trades 
in  the  city  languished,  every  interruption  in  the  distribution 
of  com  was  followed  by  fearful  sufferings,  free  gifts  of  laud 
were  often  insufficient  to  attract  the  citizens  to  honest  labour, 
and  the  multiplication  of  cliildren,  which  rendered  the  public 
relief  inadequate,  was  checked  by  abortion,  exposition,  or 
infanticide. 

When  we  remember  that  the  population  of  Rome 
probably  never  exceeded  a  million  and  a  half,  that  a  large 
proportion  of  the  indigent  were  provided  for  as  slaves,  and 
that  more  than  200,000  freemen  were  habitually  supplied 

'  The  history  of  these  distribu-  debted.      See,  too.  Monnier,  //iV/. 

'.ions  is  traced  withadmirable  learn-  de  V AsMstance publique ;  B.  Dumas, 

ing  bj' M.  Naudet  in  his  Memoire  Dcs  Sccotirs publics chczlcsAnciens; 

\ur  kf  Secours  publics  dans  VAnti-  and  Schmidt,  Essai  sur  la  Socitti 

quiii  (Mem.  de  l Academic  des  In-  civile  dans  le  Monde  remain  et  sur 

terip.  et  Belles-letires,  tome  xiii.)i  sa  Transformation  par  le  ChriBtian- 

an  essaj-  to  which  I  am  much  in-  inme. 


?6  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

wiih  the  fii-st  necessary  of  life,  we  cannot,  I  tliink,  charge 
the  Pagan  society  of  the  metropolis,  at  least,  with  an  excessive 
pai-simony  in  relieving  poverty.  But  besides  the  distiibntion 
of  corn,  several  other  measures  were  ta,ken.  Sa.lt,  which 
was  very  largely  used  by  the  Roman  poor,  had  during  the 
Republic  been  made  a  monopoly  of  the  State,  and  was  sold 
by  it  at  a  price  that  was  little  more  than  nominal.'  The  dis- 
tribution  of  land,  which  was  the  subject  of  the  agrarian  laws, 
was,  under  a  new  form,  practised  by  Julius  Cjesar,^  Nerva,* 
and  Septimus  Severus,'*  who  bought  land  to  divide  it  among 
the  poor  citizens.  Large  legacies  were  left  to  the  people  by 
Julius  Caesar,  Augustus,  and  others,  and  considerable,  though 
irregular,  donations  made  on  occasions  of  great  rejoicings. 
Numerous  public  baths  were  established,  to  which,  when 
they  were  not  absolutely  gratuitous,  the  smallest  coin  in  use 
gave  admission,  and  which  were  in  con'sequence  habitually 
tsmployed  by  the  poor.  Vespasian  instituted,  and  the  Anto- 
nines  extended,  a  system  of  popular  education,  and  the  move- 
ment I  have  already  noticed,  for  the  support  of  the  children 
of  poor  parents,  acquired  very  considerable  proportions.  The 
tii'st  trace  of  it  at  Rome  may  be  found  under  Augustus,  who 
gave  money  and  com  for  the  support  of  young  cliildrcn,  who 
liad  previously  not  been  included  in  the  public  distributions.* 
Tliis  appears,  however,  to  have  been  but  an  act  of  isolated 
benevolence,  and  the  honour  of  first  instituting  a  systematic 
effort  in  this  direction  belongs  to  Nerva,  who  enjoined  the 
sujjport  of  poor  children,  not  only  in  Rome,  but  in  all  the 
cities  of  Italy.*     Trajan  greatly  extended  the  system.     In 

'_  Livy,  ii.  9;  Pliny,  Hist.  ]Va(.  puollas  puero.s(|U(' nalos  parentibus 

^^^'-  ■*1-  (Kcsfosis  suniptu  piihlic-o  perltalise 

*  Dion  0;issius,  xxxviii.  1-7.  oppida  nli  jussil.'— Scxt.  Aur.lius 
'^Xiphilin.lxviii.  2;  riiiiy,  ;cp.  Victor,    Kpiiome,    '  Ncrva.'      This 

'"'   •"^-       .  measure  of  Ncrva,  till mgh  not  men- 

*  Spartian.  ^cpt.  Scvrrus.  tioned  by  any  oilier  writer,  is  con- 

*  Siiet.  Avgust.  41  ;  Dion  Cas-     firmed  by  tlio  evidence  of  medals. 
»'u^  li-  -'•  ,   _  (Naudet,  p.  75.) 

'.Afflii'tob  civifcitis  roleravit; 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  77 

his  reign  5,000  poor  children  were  supported  by  the  Govem- 
naent  in  Rome  alone,'  and  similar  measm^es,  though  we  know 
not  on  what  scale,  were  taken  in  the  other  Italian  and  even 
African  cities.  At  the  little  town  of  Velleia,  we  find  a 
charity  instituted  by  Trajan,  for  the  partial  suppoi-t  of  270 
children.^  Private  benevolence  followed  in  the  same  du-ec- 
tion,  and  several  inscriptions  which  still  remain,  though  they 
do  not  enable  us  to  write  its  history,  sufficiently  attest  its 
acti\T[ty.  The  younger  Pliny,  besides  warmly  encouraging 
schools,  devoted  a  small  property  to  the  support  of  poor 
children  in  his  native  city  of  Como.^  The  name  of  Caelia 
Macrina  is  preserved  as  the  foundress  of  a  charity  for  100 
children  at  Terracina.''  Hadrian  increased  the  supplies  of 
com  allotted  to  these  charities,  and  he  was  also  distinguished 
for  his  bounty  to  poor  women.^  Antoninus  was  accustomed 
to  lend  money  to  the  poor  at  four  per  cent.,  which  wa.s  much 
below  the  nonnal  rate  of  interest,^  and  both  he  and  Marcus 
Aurelius  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  their  wives  institutions 
for  the  support  of  girls.  ^  Alexander  Severus  in  like  manuer 
dedicated  an  institution  for  the  support  of  childi-en  to  the 
memory  of  his  mother.*  Public  hospitals  were  probably 
unknown  in  Eiu'ope  before  Chi-istianity ;  but  there  ai-e  traces 
of  the  distribution  of  medicine  to  the  sick  poor ;  ^  there  were 
private  infirmaries  for  slaves,  and  also,  it  is  believed,  military 
hospitals.'"     Provincial  towns  were  occasionally  assisted  by 

'  Plin.  Fanegyr.  xxvi.  xxviii.  Maurs  romaifics,  iii.  p.  157. 

2  We    know    of    this    charity  '»  Scneoa  (i^c/ra,  lib.  i.  cap.  16) 

from  an  extant  bronze  tablet.    See  spealcs  of  institutions  called  valo- 

Schmidt,    Essai   historique   sur  la  tudinaria,  which  most  writers  tliink 

Soeiete  romaine,  p.  428.  were   private   infirmaries   in   rich 

»  Plin.  JE,Yj.  i.  8 ;  ir.  13.  men's  houses.     The  opinion   that 

*  Schmidt,  p.  428.  tlie  Romans  had  public  hospitals 
'  Spartianus,  Hadrian.  is  maintained  in   a  very   learned 

*  Capitolinus,  Antoninus.  and    valuable,     but    little-known 
^  Capitolinus,     Anton.,     Marc,  work,  called  Collections  relative  to 

Jurel.  the  Systimatic  BdieJ'  of  the  Poor. 

*Lampridius,  A.  Severus.  (Loudon,  1816.) 

*  See     Friedltender,     Hist,  des 


78  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  Government  in  seasons  of  great  distress,  and  there  are 
Honie  recorded  instances  of  private  legacies  for  their  benefit.' 
These  various  measures  are  by  no  means  inconsideralile, 
and  it  is  net  unreasonable  to  suppose  that  many  similar  steps 
■^rere  taken,  of  which  all  record  has  been  lost.  The  history 
cf  charity  presents  so  few  salient  features,  so  little  that  can 
strike  the  imagination  or  arrest  the  attention,  that  it  is 
usually  almost  wholly  neglected  by  historians ;  and  it  ia 
easy  to  conceive  what  inadequate  notions  of  oiu'  existing 
charities  could  be  gleaned  from  the  casual  allusions  in  plays 
or  poems,  ia  political  histories  or  court  memoirs.  There  can, 
however,  be  no  question?  that  neither  in  practice  nor  in 
theory,  neither  in  the  institutions  that  were  founded  nor  in 
the  place  that  was  assigned  to  it  in  the  scale  of  duties,  did 
charity  in  antiquity  occupy  a  position  at  all  comparable  to 
that  which  it  has  obtaiiaed  by  Christianity.  Nearly  all 
relief  was  a  State  measure,  dictated  much  more  by  policy 
than  by  benevolence  ;  and  the  habit  of  selliug  young  children, 
the  innumerable  expositions,  the  readiness  of  the  poor  to 
enrol  themselves  aa  gladiators,  and  the  frequent  famiaes, 
show  how  large  was  the  measure  of  unrelieved  distress.  A 
very  few  Pagan  examples  of  charity  have,  indeed,  descended 
to  us.  Among  the  Greeks  we  find  Epaminondas  ransoming 
captives,  and  collecting  dowers  for  poor  gii-ls;^  Cimon, 
feeding  the  hungry  and  clothing  the  naked  ;3  Bias,  purchasing, 
emancipating,  and  furnishing  with  dowers  some  captive  girla 
of  Messina.-*  Tacitus  has  described  with  enthusiasm  how, 
after  a  catastrophe  near  Rome,  the  rich  threw  open  their 
houses  and  taxed  all  their  resources  to  relieve  the  sufferers.* 
There  exi.sted,  too,  among  the  poor,  both  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  mutual  insurance  societies,  which  undertook  to  pTO- 


'  See    Tacit.    Aniuil.   xii.    58  ;  '  Plutarch,  Cimon. 

Pliny,  V.  7  ;  x.  79.  *  I^i<Jg-  Laert.  Bias. 

^  Cornolius   Nepon,    Kpaminon'  '  Tac.  Aiinal.  iv.  63. 
i<ia,  cap.  iii. 


FaOM    CONSTANTIXE    TO    CHARLEMAGKE.  79 

vide  for  theii-  sick  and  infirm  members. '  The  very  frequent 
l-eference  to  mendicancy  in  the  Latin  wi iters  shows  that 
beggai-s,  and  therefore  those  who  relieved  beggars,  were 
numerous.  The  duty  of  hospitality  was  also  strongly  en- 
joined, and  was  placed  under  the  special  protection  of  the 
supreme  Deity.  But  the  active,  habitual,  and  detailed 
charity  of  private  persons,  which  is  so  conspicuous  a  feature 
in  all  Christian  societies,  was  scarcely  known  in  antiquity, 
and  there  are  not  more  than  two  or  tkree  moralists  who 
have  even  noticed  it.  Of  these,  the  chief  rank  belongs  to 
Cicero,  who  devoted  two  very  judicious  but  somewhat  cold 
chapters  to  the  subject.  Notliing,  he  said,  is  more  suitable 
to  the  nature  of  man  than  beneficence  or  liberality,  but  there 
are  many  cautions  to  be  urged  in  practising  it.  "We  must 
take  care  that  our  bounty  is  a  real  blessing  to  the  person  wo 
relieve ;  that  it  does  not  exceed  our  own  means ;  that  it  is 
not,  as  was  the  case  with  Sylla  and  Csesar,  derived  from  the 
spoliation  of  others ;  that  it  springs  from  the  heart  and  not 
from  ostentation ;  that  the  claims  of  gi-atitude  are  preferred 
to  the  mere  impulses  of  compassion,  and  that  due  regard  is 
paid  both  to  the  character  and  to  the  wants  of  the  recipient.  ^ 
Christianity  for  the  fii-st  time  made  chaiity  a  rudimentary 
virtue,  giving  it  a  leading  place  in  the  moral  type,  and  in  the 
exhortations  of  its  teachers.  Besides  its  general  infiuence  in 
stimulating  the  aifections,  it  effected  a  complete  revolution 
in  this  sphere,  by  regarding  the  poor  as  the  special  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Christian  Founder,  and  thus  making  the 
love  of  Christ,  rather  than  the  love  of  man,  the  principle  of 
charity.  Even  in  the  days  of  persecution,  collections  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor  were  made  at  the  Sunday  meetings. 
The  agapaj  or  feasts  of  love  were  intended  mainly  for  the 
poor,  and  food  that  was  saved  by  the  fasts  was  devoted  to 
tJieir  benefit.     A  vast  organisation  of  cliai-ity,  presidefl  over 

'  Seo  Pliny,  F.p.  x.  94,  and  the  remarks  of  Xaudet,  pp.  88,  39. 


so  HISTORY    OF    EDROrEAN    MORALS. 

by  the  bishops,  and  actively  directed  by  the  deacons,  soon 
ramified  over  Christendom,  till  the  bond  of  charity  became 
the  bond  of  unity,  and  the  most  distant  sections  of  the 
Christian  Church  con-esponded  by  the  interchange  of  mercy. 
Long  before  the  era  of  Constantine,  it  was  observed  that  Ihe 
charities  of  the  Christians  were  so  extensive — it  may,  per- 
haps, be  said  so  excessive — that  they  drew  very  many 
impost oi-s  to  the  Church  ;^  and  when  the  victory  of  Chris- 
tianity was  achieved,  the  enthusiasm  for  charity  displayed 
itself  in  the  erection  of  numerous  institutions  that  were  alto- 
gether iinknown  to  the  Pagan  world.  A  Roman  lady, 
named  Fabiola,  in  the  foui-th  century,  founded  at  Rome,  as 
an  act  of  penance,  the  first  public  hospital,  and  the  charity 
planted  by  that  woman's  hand  overspread  the  world,  and 
will  alleviate,  to  the  end  of  time,  the  darkest  anguish  of 
humanity.  Another  hospital  was  soon  after  founded  by  St. 
Pammachus ;  another  of  gi-eat  celebrity  by  St.  Basil,  ut 
Csesarea.  St.  Basil  also  erected  at  Csesarea  what  was  probably 
the  fil'st  asylum  for  lepei-s.  Xenodochia,  or  refuges  for 
strangers,  speedily  rose,  especially  along  the  paths  of  the 
pilgrims.  St.  Pammachus  founded  one  at  Ostia  ;  Paula  and 
Melania  founded  others  at  Jei'usalem.  The  Council  of  Nice 
ordered  that  one  should  be  erected  in  every  city.  lu  the 
time  of  St.  Chrysostoni  the  church  of  Antioch  supported 
3,000  widows  and  vii-gins,  besides  strangers  and  sick.  Lega- 
cies for  the  poor  became  common ;  and  it  was  not  unfrequent 
for  men  and  women  who  desired  to  live  a  life  of  peculiar 
Banctity,  and  especially  for  priests  who  attiiined  the  ejjiscojjacy 

'  Luciiin  describes  this  in  his  sects,  and  had  amassed  a  con- 
famous  picture  of  Peregrinus ;  and  sideriiblo  fortune  by  the  gifts  he 
Julian,  much  lator,  accused  the  r<'ccivetl  on  tlioso  occasions.  He 
Chritjtians  of  drawing  men  into  was  at  hist  miraculously  detected 
the  Church  by  their  charities,  by  the  Novalian  bishop  Paul, 
yocrutes  {Hist.  Eccl.  vii.  ]7)  tells  There  are  several  instances  in  the 
a  story  of  a  Jow  who,  pretending  Lives  of  the  Suiuts  of  judgments 
to  bo  a  convert  to  Christianity,  falling  on  those  who  duped  bene- 
Lad  been  often  baptised  in  dill'ereut  volent,  Christians. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  81 

to  bestow  theii'  entire  properties  in  charity.  Even  the  early 
Oiiental  monks,  who  for  the  most  part  were  extremely 
removed  from  the  active  and  social  virtues,  supplied  many 
Doble  examples  of  charity.  St.  Ephrem,  in  a  time  of  pesti- 
lence, emerged  fr-om  his  solitude  to  found  and  superintend  a 
bospital  at  Edessa.  A  monk  named  Thalasius  collected 
blind  beggars  in  an  asylum  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphi-ates. 
A  merchant  named  Apollonius  founded  on  Mount  Nitria  a 
gratuitous  dispensary  for  the  monks.  The  monks  often 
assisted  by  their  labours  provinces  that  were  suffering  from 
pestilence  or  famine.  We  may  trace  the  remains  of  the 
pure  socialism  that  marked  the  first  phase  of  the  Christian 
community,  in  the  emphatic  language  with  which  some  of 
the  Fathers  proclaimed  charity  to  be  a  matter  not  of  mercy  but 
of  justice,  maintaining  that  all  property  is  based  on  usurp- 
ation, that  the  earth  by  right  is  common  to  all  men,  and 
that  no  man  can  claim  a  superabundant  supply  of  its  goods 
except  as  an  administrator  for  others.  A  Christian,  it  was 
maintained,  should  devote  at  least  one-tenth  of  his  profits  to 
the  poor.^ 

The  enthusiasm  of  charity,  thus  manifested  in  the  Church, 
speedily  attracted  the  attention  of  the  Pagans.  The  ridicule 
of  Lucian,  and  the  vain  efforts  of  Julian  to  produce  a  rival 
system  of  charity  within  the  limits  of  Paganism,-  emphatically 
attested  both  its  pre-eminence  and  its  catholicity.     Duiing 


'  See  on  this  subject  Chastel,  histories,    Nennder's    Ecclesiastical 

Etudes   histnriqnes  sur  la    Chnritt  History,  and   Private  Life  of  the 

(Paris,  1853) ;  M>irtin  Daisy,  i//si!.  Early  Christians,  and  to  Migne's 

de   la    Charite  pendant  les  quatre  Encyclopedie . 

■premiers     Sitcles     (Paris,    1848) ;  ^  See    the    famous    epistle    of 

Champagny,     Charite     chrelienne ;  Julian     to     Arsacius,    ■where     ho 

Tollemer,    Origines  de   la    Charite  declares  that  it  is  shameful   that 

catholique    (Paris,     1863);    Ej'an,  'the    Galileans'    should     support 

History  of  the  Effects  of  Religion  not  only  their  own,  but  also  the 

upon    Mankind    (Dublin,    1820);  heathen  poor;  and  also  the  com- 

^nd  the  ■works  of  Bingham  and  of  ments  of  Sozomcn,    Hi^.   cccl,   v. 

Cave.     I  am  also  indebted,  in  this  ]  6. 
partof  my  subject,  to  Dean  ^lilman's 


62  HI.^TORY    OF    EUllOPEAN    MOKAI.S. 

the  pestilences  that  desolated  Carthage  in  a.d.  32G,  aurl 
Alexandria  in  the  reigns  of  Gallienus  and  of  Maximian,  -while 
the  Pagans  fled  panic-stricken  from  the  contagion,  the 
Christians  extorted  the  admii-ation  of  their  fellow-coiuitrymen 
by  the  courage  with  which  they  rallied  avoimd  their  bishopf, 
consoled  the  last  hours  of  the  sufferers,  and  buried  the  aban- 
doned dead.'  In  the  rapid  increase  of  pauperism  arising 
from  the  emancipation  of  numerous  slaves,  their  charity 
found  free  scope  for  action,  and  its  resoui'ces  were  soon  taxed 
to  the  utmost  by  the  horroi-s  of  the  bai'barian  invasions. 
The  conquest  of  Afxica  by  Gcnseric  deprived  Italy  of  the 
Rujiply  of  corn  upon  which  it  almost  wholly  depended, 
arrested  the  gratuitous  distribution  by  which  the  Roman 
poor  were  mainly  supported,  and  produced  all  over  the  land 
the  most  appalling  calamities.^  The  history  of  Italy  became 
one  monotonous  tale  of  famine  and  pestilence,  of  starving 
populations  and  ruined  cities.  But  everywhere  amid  this 
chaos  of  dissolution  we  may  detect  the  majestic  form  of  the 
Christian  priest  mediating  between  the  hostile  forces,  strain- 
ing evei7  nerve  to  lighten  the  calamities  around  him.  When 
the  Imperial  city  was  captured  and  plundered  by  the  hosts 
of  Alaric,  a  Christian  church  remained  a  secure  sanctuary, 
which  neither  the  passions  nor  the  avarice  of  the  Goths 
transgressed.  When  a  fiercer  than  Alaric  had  mai-ked  out 
Home  for  his  prey,  the  Pope  St.  Leo,  arrayed  in  his  sacer- 
dotal   robes,  confronted  the  victorious  Ilun,  as  the  ambas- 


'  The  confltict  of  the  Christians,  Theodoric  afterwards   made  some 

on  the  first  of  these  occasions,  is  efforts  to  re-establish  the   distii- 

deseribed  by  Pontius,  r?<.  Cy/>WanJ,  bution,  but  it  never  regained   its 

jx.    19.       St.    Cyprian    organised  former  proportions.     The  pictures 

t lie! r  efforts.     On  the  Alexandrian  of  the  starvation  and  dciiopulatiuD 

famiaes  (in<i  pestilences,  see   Eusc-  of  It-ily  at  this  time  are  apicilliiig. 

lius,  //.  E.  vii.  22;  ix.  8.  Some   feart'id  facts  on  the  subject 

*  The  effects  of  this  conquest  are  collected    by  Gibbon,  D.dim 

have  been  well  described   by  Sis-  awcJ^'a/Z.ch.xxxvi.;  Chateaubriand, 

mondi,  HmL.  df.  la  ChvitdcV Kmpirc,  vi""  Dif^c.  2''*  partic. 
Hwnain,    tome     i.     pp.     258-260. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  83 

sador  of  his  fellow  coiintrymen,  and  Attila,  ovei'po'w  ered  by 
religious  awe,  turaed  aside  in  his  course.  When,  two  year? 
later,  Rome  lay  at  the  mercy  of  Genseric,  the  same  Pope 
interposed  with  the  Yandal  conqueror,  and  obtained  from 
him  a  partial  cessation  of  the  massacre.  The  Archdeacon 
Pelagius  inteit^eded  with  similar  humanity  and  similar 
success,  when  Rome  had  been  captured  by  Totila.  In  Gaul, 
Troyes  is  said  to  have  been  saved  from  destruction  by  the 
influence  of  St.  Lupus,  and  Orleans  by  the  influence  of  St. 
Agnan.  In  Britain  an  invasion  of  the  Picts  was  averted  by 
St.  Germain  of  Auxerre.  The  relations  of  rulers  to  their 
subjects,  and  of  tribunals  to  the  poor,  were  modified  by  the 
same  intervention.  "When  Antioch  was  threatened  with 
destruction  on  account  of  its  rebellion  against  Theodosius, 
the  anchorites  poured  forth  from  the  neighbouring  deserts  to 
intercede  with  the  ministers  of  the  emperor,  while  the  Arch- 
bishop Flavian  went  himself  as  a  suppliant  to  Constantinople. 
St.  Ambrose  imposed  public  penance  on  Theodosius,  on 
account  of  the  massacre  of  Thessalonica.  Synesius  excom- 
municated for  Ids  oppressions  a  governor  named  Andi'onicus  ; 
and  two  French  Councils,  in  the  sixth  century,  imposed  the 
same  penalty  on  all  gieat  men  who  arbitrarily  ejected  the 
poor.  Special  laws  were  found  necessary  to  restrain  the 
turbulent  charity  of  some  priests  and  monks,  who  impeded 
the  course  of  justice,  and  even  snatched  criminals  from  *lhe 
hands  of  the  law.'  St.  Abraham,  St.  Epiphanius,  and  St. 
Basil  are  all  said  to  have  obtained  the  remission  or  reduction 
of  oppi-essive  imposts.  To  provide  for  the  interests  of  widows 
and  orphans  was  part  of  the  official  ecclesiastical  duty,  and 
a  Council  of  Macon  anathematised  any  ruler  who  brought 
them  to  trial  without  first  apprising  the  bishop  of  the  diocese. 
A  Council  of  Toledo,  in  the  fifth  century,  threatened  with 
excommunication  all  who  robbed   priests,   monks,  or   poor 


WW.    Thcod.    ix.    si.     15-16.     by  Theodosius,  A.n.  302  ;  the  sec<3ad 
Ibe  first  of  these  laws  was  made     by  Honorius,  a.d.  398. 


84  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

men,  or  refused  to  listen  to  their  expostulations.     One  of  tlie 
chief  causes  of  the  inordinate  power  acquired  by  the  clergy 
was  their  mediatorial  office,  and  their  gigantic  wealth  was 
in  a  great  degree  due  to  the  legacies  of  those  who  regarded 
Ihem  as  the  trustees  of  the  poor.     As  time  rolled  on,  chain  ty 
assumed  many  forms,  and  every  monastery  became  a  centre 
from- which  it  radiated.      By  the  monks  the  nobles  were 
overawed,  the  poor   protected,   the   sick   tended,   travellers 
sheltered,  prisoners  ransomed,  the  remotest  spheres  of  suffer- 
ing explored.     During  the  darkest  period  of  the  middle  ages, 
monks  founded  a  refuge  for  pilgrims  amid  the  horrors  of  the 
Alpine   snows.      A  solitary  hei-mit  often   planted   himself, 
with  his  little  boat,  by  a  bridgeless  .stream,  and  the  charity 
of  his  life  was  to  ferry  over   the   traveller.'       When   the 
hideous  disease  of  leprosy  extended  its  i-avages  over  Europe, 
when  the  minds  of  men  were  filled  with  terror,  not  only  by 
its  loathsomeness  and  its  contagion,  but  also  by  the  notion 
that  it  was  in  a  peculiar  sense  supernatiu-al,^  new  hospitals 
and  refuges  overspread  Europe,  and  monks  flocked  in  multi- 
tudes to  serve  in  them.''     Sometimes,  the  legends  say,  the 
leper's  form  was  in  a  moment    transfigured,  and   he   who 
came  to  tend  the  most  loathsome  of  mankind  received  his 
reward,  for  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  liis  I^ord. 
There  is  no  fiict  of  which  an  historian  becomes  more 


>  Cibrario,    Economica   politica  hisfonque  sitr  la  Femtvrc  siir  verrc, 

del  Medio    Evo,   lib.   ii.   cap.   iii.  pp.  32-37- 

The    most    remarkable    of    these  'The    fact    of    leprosy    being 

saints  was  St.  Julien  I'Hospitalier,  taken  as  the  image  of  sin  gave  rise 

who  having  under  a  mistake  killed  to   some    curious    notions    of    lU 

his  fatlier  and  mother,  ns  a  penan.^e  supernatural     character,     and     to 

bo-ame    a    ferryman    of    a    great  many    legends    of    saints    curing 

river,  and  having  embarked  on  a  leprosy  by  baptism.     .See  Maury, 

very  stormy  and  dangerous  niglit  Ugemles  yiemes    au    Moyen-Age, 

at  the  voice  of  a  traveller  in  dis-  pp.  64-6.5.  •    ,   ^u      • 

tress  received  Christ  into  his  boat.  »  See  on  these  hospitals  C'brano, 

His  story  is  painted  on  a  window  Ewi.  Politwa  dd  Medio  Evo,  lib, 

of  the  t  hirteonth  century,  in  Rouen  iii.  cap.  ii. 
Cathedral.      See    Langlois,    Essai 


FKOM    CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  85 

upeedily  or  more  jDainfully  conscious  than  the  great  difference 
between  the  importance  and  the  dramatic  interest  of  the 
subjects  he  treats.  Wars  or  massacres,  the  horrors  of 
martyrdom  or  the  splendours  of  individual  prowess,  are 
susceptible  of  such  brilliant  colouring,  that  with  but  little 
literary  skill  thej^  can  be  so  pourtrayed  that  their  importiince 
is  adequately  realised,  and  they  appeal  powerfully  to  the 
emotions  of  the  reader.  But  this  vast  and  unostentatious 
movement  of  charity,  operating  in  the  village  hamlet  and  in 
the  lonely  hospital,  staunching  the  widow's  tears,  and  follow- 
ing all  the  windings  of  the  poor  man's  griefs,  presents  few 
features  the  imagination  can  grasp,  and  leaves  no  deep  im- 
pression upon  the  mind.  The  greatest  things  are  often  those 
which  are  most  imperfectly  realised ;  and  surely  no  achieve- 
ments of  the  Cliristian  Church  are  more  truly  great  than 
those  which  it  has  effected  in  the  sphere  of  charity.  For 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  mankind,  it  has  ins]iired 
many  thousands  of  men  and  women,  at  the  sacrifice  of  all 
worldly  interests,  and  often  under  circumstances  of  extreme 
dLscorafort  or  danger,  to  devote  their  entire  lives  to  the 
single  object  of  assuaging  the  sufferings  of  humanity.  It  has 
covered  the  globe  with  coimtless  institutions  of  mercy, 
absolutely  unknown  to  the  whole  Pagan  world.  It  hius 
indissolubly  united,  in  the  minds  of  men,  the  idea  of  supreme 
goodness  with  that  of  active  and  constant  benevolence.  It 
has  placed  in  every  parish  a  religious  minister,  who,  whatever 
may  be  his  other  functions,  has  at  least  been  officially  chargefl 
with  the  superintendence  of  an  organisation  of  charity,  and 
who  finds  in  this  office  one  of  the  most  important  as  well  as 
one  of  the  most  legitimate  sources  of  his  power. 

There  are,  however,  two  important  qualifications  to  the 
admiration  with  which  we  regard  the  history  of  Christian 
charity — one  relating  to  a  particular  form  of  suffering,  and 
the  other  of  a  more  general  kind.  A  strong,  ill-defined 
notion  of  the  supernatural  character  of  insanity  had  existed 
38 


80  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

from  the  earliest  times ;  but  there  were  special  circumstances 
which  rendered  the  action  of  the  Church  peculiarly  unfavour- 
able to  those  who  were  either  predisposed  to  or  afflicted  with 
this  calamity.  The  reality  both  of  witchcraft  and  diabolical 
possession  had  been  distinctly  recognised  in  the  Jewisli 
writings.  The  received  opinions  about  eternal  torture,  and 
ever-present  daemons,  and  the  continued  strain  upon  the 
imagination,  in  dwelling  upon  an  unseen  world,  w"ere  pre- 
eminently fitted  to  produce  madness  in  those  who  were  at  all 
predisposed  to  it,  and,  where  insanity  had  actually  appeared, 
to  determine  the  form  and  complexion  of  the  hallucinations 
of  the  maniac.'  Theology  supplying  all  the  images  that 
acted  most  powerfully  upon  the  imagination,  most  madness, 
for  many  centuries,  took  a  theological  cast.  One  important 
department  of  it  appears  chiefly  in  the  lives  of  the  saints. 
Men  of  lively  imaginations  and  absolute  ignorance,  living 
apart  from  all  their  fellows,  amid  the  honors  of  a  savage 
wilderness,  practising  austerities  by  which  their  physical 
system  was  thoroughly  deranged,  and  firmly  persuaded  that 
innumerable  devils  were  continually  hovering  about  their 
cells  and  interfering  with  their  devotions,  speedily  and  very 
naturally  became  subject  to  constant  hallucinations,  which 
probaljly  form  the  nucleus  of  tnith  in  the  legends  of  their 
lives.  P>ut  it  was  impos.sible  that  insanity  should  confine 
itself  to  the  orthodox  forms  of  celestial  visions,  or  of  the 
apparitions  and  the  defeats  of  devils.  Very  frequently  it 
led  the  unhappy  maniac  to  some  delusion,  which  called  down 

'  Calmeil  observes  :  '  On  a  sou-  caractire  iles  ev^nemf-nts  reltuifs  ,j 

vent  constate  depuia  un  demi-sieclo  la  [politique;  exterieiin;,  le  c^r.ioltTo 

quo  la  folic  est  sujette  a  prendre  des   cveneinents   civils,    la    natipo 

la  teinte  des  croyances  religieuses,  des     productions     litt^raires.    des 

lies  ideos  philosophiques  ou  snp<'r-  representations  th^Mrales,  suivant 

stitieiiB'-s,  des  pr^jug^s  sociaux  qui  la  tournnre,   la  d  recti  on,  Ic  genre 

ont   eouTH,    qui    sont   actuellement  d'clan  qu'y  prmncnt  rindnslric,  les 

en  vr>gui!  parmi  les  peuples  ou  les  arts  et  les  sciences.'-    l)c  la    FoUe, 

nations;    quo    cetto    teinfe    varie  tome  i.  pp.  122-123. 
dans   un    meine   pays    suivant    le 


FROM    CONST ANTIISTE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  87 

upon  him  the  speedy  sentence  of  the  Church.  Thus,  in  the 
year  1300,  the  corpse  of  a  Bohemian,  or,  accordino;  to  another 
version,  an  English  girl,  Avho  imagined  herself  to  be  the  Holy 
Ghost  incarnate  for  the  redemption  of  women,  was  dug  up  and 
burnt ;  and  two  women  who  believed  in  her  perished  at  the 
stake.*  In  the  year  1359,  a  Spaniard  declared  himself  to  be 
the  brother  of  the  archangel  Michael,  and  to  be  destined  for 
the  place  in  heaven  which  Satan  had  lost;  and  he  added  that 
he  was  accustomed  every  day  both  to  mount  into  heaven  and 
descend  into  hell,  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand,  and 
that  it  was  reserved  for  him  to  enter  into  single  combat  witli 
Antichrist.  The  poor  lunatic  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Toledo,  and  was  burnt  aiive.''^  In  some  cases 
the  hallucination  took  the  form  of  an  irregular  inspiration. 
On  this  charge,  Joan  of  Arc,  and  another  girl,  who  had  been 
fired  by  her  example,  and  had  endeavoured,  apparently  under 
a  genuine  hallucination,  to  follow  her  career,^  were  burnt 
aUve.  A  famous  Spanish  physician  and  scholar,  named 
Ton-alba,  who  lived  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  Avho 
imagined  that  he  had  an  attendant  angel  continually  about 
him,  escaped  with  public  penance  and  confession ;  *  but  a 

'  Milman's    History    of   Latin  que  tousles  jours  il  s'elcvoit  au  plus 

Christ'cinili/,  vol.  vii.,  p.  353-354.  haut  de   I'Empiree   et  dcsccncloit 

'  Venit    de   Anglia    virgo    decora  cnsuite au  plus  profond  dcs  enfers ; 

valde,  pariterque  facunda,  dicens,  i\u^k  la    fin  du  nionde,  qui    etoit 

Spiritum   Sanctum  incarnatum    in  prochc,  il  iroit  au  devant  do  I'Anti- 

redeniptionem   mulierum,  et  bap-  christ  et  qu'il  Ic  terrasFeroit,  ayant 

tisavit  mulieres  in  nomine  Patris,  k  sa  main  la  croix  dc  J^sus-Christ 

Filii   et   sui.     Quae  niortua   ducta  et  sa  couronne  d'cpinrs.     L'arche- 

fuit  in  Mediolanum,  ibi  et  crcmata.'  veque  de  Toledo,  n'avant  pu  con- 

— Annalcx  Dominicanoruin  Cobiici-  vertirco  fanatique  obstiue,  ni  reni- 

ricmium    (in    the    '  Rerum    Ger-  peclier  de  dogmatiser,  I'avoit  cnfin 

manic.  Scriptoies ').  livre    au    bras   seculier. — Touron, 

* '  Martin  Goncalez,  du  diocese  Hist,  dcs  Hommcs  i^liistrcs  de  Vordre 

de  Cuenca,  disoit  qu'il  etoit  fr^re  de  St.  Dominique,  Paris,  1745  (  \'ic 

de  I'archange  S  Michel,  la  premiere  d'Ei/mericus),  tome  ii.  p.  635. 
verity   ct  i'6chclle  du  cicl ;    que  *»  Calmeil,  De  la  Fo'm,  tome  i. 

c'6toit  pour  lui  que  Dieu  r6servoit  p.  134. 
la  place  que  Lucifer  avoit  perdue  ;  *  Ibid,  tome  i.  pp.  242-247. 


88  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

|)rofessor  of  theology  in  Lima,  who  laboured  under  the  same 
delusion,  and  added  to  it  some  wild  notions  about  bis  spiritual 
dignities,  was  less  foi-tunate.  He  was  burnt  by  the  Inquisi 
tion  of  Peru.i  Most  commonly,  however,  the  theological 
notions  about  witchcraft  either  produced  madness  or  deter- 
mined its  form,  and,  thi'ough  the  influence  of  the  clergy  of 
the  different  sections  of  the  Christian  Church,  many  thousands 
of  unhappy  women,  who,  from  their  age,  their  loneliness,  and 
their  infirmity,  were  most  deserving  of  pity,  were  devoted  to 
the  hatred  of  mankind,  and,  having  been  tortured  with 
horrible  and  ingenious  cruelty,  were  at  last  burnt  alive. 

The  existence,  however,  of  some  forms  of  natural  madness 
was  generally  admitted ;  but  the  measures  for  the  relief  of 
the  unhappy  victims  were  very  few,  and  very  ill  judged. 
Among  the  ancients,  they  were  brought  to  the  temples,  and 
subjected  to  imposing  ceremonies,  which  were  believed 
supernaturally  to  relieve  them,  and  which  probably  had  a 
favourable  influence  through  their  action  upon  the  imagina- 
tion. The  great  Gi'eek  physicians  had  devoted  considerable 
attention  to  this  malady,  and  some  of  their  pi-ecepts  anti- 
cipated modern  discoveries ;  but  no  lunatic  asylum  appears 
to  have  existed  in  antiquity.'^  In  the  first  period  of  the 
hermit  life,  when  many  anchorites  became  insane  through 
their  penances,  a  refuge  is  said  to  have  been  opened  for  them 
at  Jerusalem.'  This  appears,  however,  to  be  a  solitary 
instance,  arising  from  the  exigencies  of  a  single  class,  and  no 
lunatic  asylum  existed  in  Christian  Europe  till  the  fifteenth 
century.  The  Mohammedans,  in  this  form  of  charity,  seem 
to  have  preceded  the  Christians.  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  who 
visited  Bagdad  in  the  twelfth  century,  describes  a  palace  in 
that  city,  called  'the  House  of  Mercy,'  in  which  all  mad 
|»crsona  found  in  the  country  Avere  confined  and  bound  with 

Calracil.  tome  i.  p.  247.  '  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  cli. 

*  Seo  Eequirol,  Maladies  men-     xxxvii. 
Ul^.x 


FliOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARI.EIIAGNE.  89 

iron  cliauis.  They  were  caxefully  examined  every  month 
and  released  as  soon  as  they  recovered.'  The  asylum  of 
Cairo  is  said  to  have  been  founded  in  a.d.  1304.^  Leo 
Africanus  notices  the  existence  of  a  similar  institution  at  Fez, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  mentions  that 
the  patients  were  restrained  by  chains,^  and  it  is  probable 
that  the  care  of  the  insane  was  a  general  form  of  charity 
in  Mohammedan  countries.  Among  the  Christians  it  fii'st 
appeared  in  quarters  contiguous  to  the  Mohammedans ;  but 
there  is,  I  think,  no  real  evidence  that  it  was  derived  from 
Mohammedan  example.  The  Knights  of  Malta  were  famous 
as  the  one  order  who  admitted  lunatics  into  their  hospitals  ; 
but  no  Christian  asylum  expressly  for  their  benefit  existed 
till  1409.  The  honour  of  instituting  this  form  of  charity  in 
Christendom  belongs  to  Spain.  A  monk  named  Juan  Gila- 
berto  Joffre,  filled  with  compassion  at  the  sight  of  the 
maniacs  who  were  hooted  by  crowds  through  the  streets  of 
Valencia,  founded  an  asylum  in  that  city,  and  his  example 
was  speedily  followed  in  other  provinces.  The  new  charity 
was  introduced  into  Saragossa  in  a.d.  1425,  into  Seville  and 
Valladolid  in  a.d.  1436,  into  Toledo  in  a.d.  1483.  All  these 
institutions  existed  befoi-e  a  single  lunatic  asylum  had  been 
founded  in  any  other  part  of  Christendom.^  Two  other  very 
honourable  facts  may  be  mentioned,  establishing  the  pre- 
eminence of  Spanish  chai'ity  in  this  field.  The  first  is,  that 
the  oldest  lunatic  asylum  in  the  meti-opolis  of  Catholicism 
was  that  erected  by  Spaniards,  in  a.d.  1548.^     The  second  is, 

'  Purchas's  Pilgrims,  ii.  1452.  Spaniards  took  their  asylums  from 

^  Desmaisons'   Asilis    d'AHines  tho    Mohammedans ;     but,    as    it 

en  Ei>-pagne,  p.  63.  seems  to  me,  ho  altogether  fails  to 

*  Leo  Africanus,  Description  of  prove  his  point,     ilis  work,   how- 
Africa,  book  iii.  ever,    contains   some    curious    in« 

*  I  have  taken  these  facts  from  formation  on  the  history  of  lunatia 
a  very  interesting  little  "work,  Des-  asylums. 

aiaisons,  Des  Asiles  d'Alienes    en  *  Amydemus,    Tietas    Tiomana 

Espagne  ;  Rccherchcs  hisioriques  et  (Oxford,  1687)ip.  21 ;  Desmaison^ 

»jet^icrt/c.j  (Paris,  1859).     l)r.  Des-  p.  108. 
maisons      conjectures      that     the 


so  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

that  when,  at  the  close  of  the  last  centui-y,  Piiiel  began  his 
great  labours  in  this  sphere,  he  pronounced  Spain  to  be  the 
couijitry  in  which  lunatics  were  treated  with  most  wisdom 
and  most  humanity. ' 

In  most  countries  their  condition  was  indeed  trulj 
deplorable.  "While  many  thousands  were  burnt  as  witches, 
those  who  were  recognised  as  insane  were  compelled  'o 
endure  all  the  horrors  of  the  harshest  imprisonmenb. 
Blows,  bleeding,  and  chains  were  their  usual  treatment,  and 
horrible  accounts  were  given  of  madmen  who  had  spent 
decades  bound  in  dark  cells.^  Such  treatment  naturally 
aggravated  their  malady,  and  that  malady  in  many  cases 
r-endered  impossible  the  resignation  and  ultimate  torpor 
which  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  ordinary  prisoners.  Not 
until  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  condition  of  this 
unhappy  class  seriously  improved.  The  combined  progress  of 
theological  scepticism  and  scientific  knowledge  relegat-ed 
witchcraft  to  the  world  of  phantoms,  and  the  exertions  of 
Morgagni  in  Italy,  of  Cullen  in  Scotland,  and  of  Pinel  in 
France,  renovated  the  whole  treatment  of  acknowledged 
lunatics. 

The  second  qualification  to  the  admiration  with  which  we 
i-egard  the  history  of  Clu-istian  charity  arises  from  the 
undoubted  fact  that  a  large  proportion  of  charitable  insti- 
tutions have  directly  increased  the  poverty  they  were  intended 
to  relieve.  The  question  of  tlie  utility  and  natureof  charity  is 
one  which,  since  the  modern  discoveries  of  political  economy, 
has  elicited  much  discussion,  and  in  many  ciises,  I  think,  much 
exaggeration.  What  political  economy  has  effected  on  the 
subject  may  be  comprised  under  two  heads.  It  has  elucidated 
more  clearly,  and  in  greater  detail  than  had  before  been 
done,  the  effect  of  provident  self-interest  in  determining  the 


'  Pinel,    TraiU  midico-philosc ■  "  See  the  dreiulful  tloscriptioa 

phitjuc,  pp.  241,  242.  in  Pinel,  pp.  200-202. 


FROM    COKSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  9i 

wolfaie  of  societies,  and  it  has  establislied  a  broad  distinction 
between  productive  and  unproductive  expenditure.  It  has 
sho-svn  that,  where  idleness  is  supported,  idleness  will  become 
common ;  that,  where  systematic  public  provision  is  made  foi 
old  age,  the  parsimony  of  foresight  will  be  neglected ;  and 
that  therefore  these  forms  of  charity,  by  encoui-aging  habits 
of  idleness  and  improvidence,  ultimately  increase  the  wretched- 
ness they  were  intended  to  alleviate.  It  has  also  shoMTi 
that,  while  unproductive  expenditure,  such  as  that  which  is 
devoted  to  amusements  or  luxury,  is  undoubtedly  beneficial 
to  those  who  provide  it,  the  fruit  perishes  in  the  usage ;  wliile 
productive  expenditure,  such  as  the  manufacture  of  machines, 
or  the  improvement  of  the  soil,  or  the  extension  of  commercial 
enterpiise,  gives  a  new  impulse  to  the  creation  of  wealth.  It 
has  proved  that  the  first  condition  of  the  rapid  accumulation 
of  capital  is  the  diversion  of  money  from  unpioductive  to 
productive  channels,  and  that  the  amount  of  accumulated 
capital  is  one  of  the  two  regulating  influences  of  the  wages  of 
the  labourer.  From  these  positions  some  persons  have  in- 
ferred that  charity  should  be  condemned  as  a  form  of  unpro 
ductive  expenditure.  But,  in  the  first  place,  all  charities 
that  foster  habits  of  forethought  and  develop  new  capacities 
in  the  poorer  classes,  such  as  popular  education,  or  the 
formation  of  savings  banks,  or  msurance  companies,  or,  in 
many  cases,  small  and  discriminating  loans,  or  measures 
du'ected  to  the  suppression  of  dissipation,  are  in  the  stricto.st 
sense  productive ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  many  foi-nis 
of  employment,  given  in  exceptional  crises  through  charitable 
motives ;  and,  in  the  next  place,  it  is  only  necessary  to 
remember  that  the  happiness  of  mankind,  to  which  the 
uo(  umulation  of  wealth  should  only  be  regarded  as  a  means, 
iti  the  real  object  of  charity,  and  it  will  appear  that  many 
forms  which  are  not  strictly  productive,  in  the  commercial 
sense,  are  in  the  highest  degree  conducive  to  this  end,  and 
have  no  serious  counteracting  evil.     In  the  alleviation  of 


3^  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

those  sufferings  that  do  not  spring  either  fi-om  improvidence 
or  from  vice,  the  warmest  as  well  as  the  most  enlightened 
charity  will  find  an  ample  sphere  for  its  exertions.  >     Blind- 
ness, and  other  exceptional  calamities,  against  the  effects  of 
which  prudence  does  not  and  cannot  provide,  the  miseries 
resulting  from  epidemics,  from  war,  from  famine,  from  the 
fii'st  sudden  collapse  of  industry,  produced  by  new  inventions 
or  changes  in  the  channels  of  commerce ;  hospitals,  which, 
besides  other  advantages,  are  the  gi-eatest  schools  of  medical 
science,  and  withdraw  from  the  crowded  alley  multitudes 
who  would  otherwise  form  centres  of  contagion— these,  and 
such  as  these,  will  long  tax  to  the  utmost  the  generosity  of 
the  wealthy;   while,    even  in  the  s^jheres  upon  which  the 
political  economist  looks  with  the  most  unfavourable  eye, 
exceptional   cases  will  justify   exceptional   assistance.     The 
charity  which  is  pernicious  is  commonly  not  the  highest  but 
the  lowest  kind.     The  rich  man,  prodigal  of  money,  which  is 
to  him  of  little  value,  but  altogether  incapable  of  devoting 
any    personal   attention   to   the   object   of  his   alms,   often 
injures  society  by  his  donations;  but  this  is  rarely  the  case 
with   that  far   nobler   charity   which  makes    men  familiar 
with   the   haunts  of  wretchedness,  and  follows  the   object 
of  its  care  through  all  the  phases  of  his  life.     Tlie  question 
of  the  utility  of  charity  is  merely  a  question  of  ultimate 
consequences.     Political    economy  has,  no  doubt,  laid  down 
some  general  rules  of  great  value  on  the  subject ;   but  yet 
the  pages  which  Cicero  devoted  to  it  nearly  two  thousand 
years  ago  might  have  been  written  by  the  most  enlightened 
modern  economist;  and  it  will  be  continually  found  that  the 
Protestant  lady,  working  in  her  parish,  by  the  simple  force  o< 

'  Mai  thus,   -who    is    sometimes,  tion    of    our    cliiuitj;'    Imt    tlie 

tliough  most  urijiislly,  described  as  fullest  exjiniiiiiition  of  this  subject 

an  enemy  to  all  chariry,  hasdevoted  with  which  I  am  acquainted  is' the 

Hii  admirable  chapter  {On  Popnla-  very  interesting  work  of  Duchiitel, 

tion.  book  iv.  cli.  ix.)  to  the  '  direc-  Sur  la  CharUL 


FROM    CONSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  93 

common  sense  and  by  a  scrupulous  and  minute  attention  to 
the  condition  and  character  of  those  whom  she  relieves,  is 
unconsciously  illustrating  with  perfect  accuracy  the  en- 
lightened charity  of  Malthvis. 

But  in  order  that  charity  should  be  useful,  it  is  essential 
that  the  benefit  of  the  sufierer  should  be  a  real  object  to  the 
donor ;  and  a  very  large  proportion  of  the  evils  that  have 
arisen  from  Catholic  charity  may  be  traced  to  the  absence  of 
this  condition.  The  first  substitution  of  devotion  for  philan- 
thropy, as  the  motive  of  benevolence,  gave  so  powerful  a 
stimulus  to  the  afiections,  that  it  may  on  the  whole  be  re- 
garded as  a  benefit,  though,  by  making  compassion  operate 
solely  through  a  theological  medium,  it  often  produced  among 
theologians  a  more  than  common  indifierence  to  the  suffei-inocs 
of  all  who  were  external  to  their  religious  community.  But 
the  new  principle  speedily  degenerated  into  a  belief  in  the 
expiatory  nature  of  the  gifts.  A  form  of  what  may  be  termed 
selfish  charity  arose,  which  acquired  at  last  gigantic  propor- 
tions, and  exercised  a  most  pernicious  influence  upon  Chris- 
tendom. Men  gave  money  to  the  poor,  simply  and  exclusively 
for  their  own  spiritual  benefit,  and  the  welfare  of  the  sufferer 
was  altogether  foi-eign  to  their  thoughts.' 

The  evil  which  thus  arose  from  some  forms  of  Catholic 
charity  may  be  traced  from  a  very  early  period,  but  it  only 
acquired  its  full  magnitude  after  some  centvu-ies.  The  lloman 
system  of  gratuitous  distribution  was,  in  the  eyes  of  the  poli- 
tical economist,  about  the  worst  that  could  be  conceived,  and 
the  charity  of  the  Church  being,  in  at  least  a  measure,  dis- 
criminating, was  at  first  a  very  great,  though  even  then  not 
an  unmingled,  good.     Labour  was  also  not  unfiequeutly  en- 


'  This    is     very     tersely     ex-  command   of   my   God.'  —  Sir   T. 

pressed    by    a    great    Protestant  Brown,  Rcligio  Medici,  part  ii.  §  2. 

■writer;  'I  give  no  ahiis  to  satisfy  A  s;iying  almost  exactly  similar  is, 

the  hunger  of  my  brother,  but  to  if  I   remember  right,  ascribed  to 

fulfil  aud  accomplish  the  wiK  and  St.  Elizabeth  of  liuugary. 


94  HISTORY   OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

joined  as  a  duty  by  the  Fathers,  and  at  a  latei'  period  the 
services  of  the  Benedictine  monks,  in  destroying  by  tlioir 
example  the  stigma  which  slavery  had  attached  to  it,  wei-e 
very  great.  Still,  one  of  the  fiivst  consequences  of  the  exube- 
rant charity  of  the  Church  was  to  multiply  impostors  and 
mendicants,  and  the  idleness  of  the  monks  was  one  of  the 
earliest  complaints.  Valentinian  made  a  severe  law,  con- 
demning robust  beggars  to  perpetual  slavery.  As  the  monastic 
system  was  increased,  and  especially  after  the  mendicant  ordei-a 
had  consecrated  mendicancy,  the  evil  assumed  gigantic  dimen- 
sions. Many  thousands  of  strong  men,  absolutely  without 
private  means,  were  in  every  country  withdrawn  from  pro- 
ductive labour,  and  supported  by  charity.  The  notion  of  the 
meritorious  nature  of  simple  almsgiving  immeasurably  multi- 
plied beggars.  The  stigma,  which  it  is  the  highest  interest  of 
society  to  attach  to  mendicancy,  it  became  a  main  object  of 
theologians  to  remove.  Saints  wandered  through  the  world 
begging  money,  that  they  might  give  to  beggars,  or  depriving 
themselves  of  theii*  garments,  that  they  might  clothe  the  naked, 
and  the  result  of  their  teaching  was  speedily  apparent.  lu 
all  Catholic  countries  whex*e  ecclesiastical  influences  have  been 
permitted  to  develop  immolested,  the  monastic  organisations 
have  proved  a  deadly  calnker,  corroding  the  prosperity  of  the 
nation.  Withdrawing  multitudes  from  all  production,  en- 
couraging a  blind  and  pernicious  almsgiving,  diffusing  habits 
of  imj)rovidence  through  the  poorer  classes,  fostering  an  igno- 
rant admiration  for  saintly  poverty,  and  an  equally  ignorant 
auti2>athy  to  the  habits  and  aims  of  an  industrial  civilisation, 
they  have  paralysed  all  energy,  and  proved  an  insuperable 
barrier  to  material  progress.  The  poverty  they  have  i-elieved 
has  been  insignificant  compared  with  the  poverty  they  have 
caused.  In  no  case  was  the  abolition  of  monasteries  clfecited 
in  a  more  indefensible  manner  than  in  England ;  but  the 
transfer  of  property,  that  was  once  employed  in  a  gi^at 
measure  in  charity,  to  the  courtiers  of  King  Henry,  was  ulti- 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  95 

matoly  a  benefit  to  the  English  poor ;  for  no  misapplication 
of  tliis  property  by  private  persons  could  produce  as  much 
evil  as  an  unrestrained  monasticism.  The  value  of  Catholic 
services  in  alleviating  pain  and  sickness,  and  the  more  excep- 
tional forms  of  sufiering,  can  never  be  overrated.  The  noble 
hei-oism  of  her  servants,  who  have  devoted  themselves  to 
charity,  has  never  been  sui'passed,  and  the  perfection  of  their 
organisation  has,  I  think,  never  been  equalled ;  but  in  the 
sphere  of  simple  poverty  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  the 
Catholic  Church  has  created  more  misery  than  it  has  cured. 

Still,  even  in  this  field,  we  must  not  forget  the  benefits 
resulting,  if  not  to  the  sufferer,  at  least  to  the  donor.  Chari- 
table habits,  even  when  formed  in  the  first  instance  fi'om 
selfish  motives,  even  when  so  misdirected  as  to  be  positively 
injurious  to  the  recipient,  i-arely  fail  to  exercise  a  softening 
and  purifying  influence  on  the  character.  All  through  the 
darkest  period  of  the  middle  ages,  amid  ferocity  and  fanati- 
cism and  brutality,  we  may  trace  the  subduing  influence  of 
Catholic  charity,  blending  strangely  with  every  excess  of  vio- 
lence and  every  outburst  of  persecution.  It  would  be  difficult 
to  conceive  a  more  fiightful  picture  of  society  than  is  pre- 
sented by  the  history  of  Gregory  of  Tours ;  but  that  long 
series  of  atrocious  crimes,  narrated  with  an  almost  appalling 
tranquillity,  is  continually  interspersed  with  accounts  of  kings, 
queens,  or  prelates,  who,  in  the  midst  of  the  disorganised 
society,  made  the  relief  of  the  poor  the  main  object  of  their 
lives.  No  period  of  history  exhibits  a  larger  amount  of 
cruelty,  licentiousness,  and  fanaticism  than  the  Crusades  ;  but 
side  by  side  with  the  military  enthusiasm,  and  with  the  almost 
uiuversal  corruption,  there  expanded  a  vast  movement  of 
charity,  which  covered  Christendom  with  hospitals  for  the 
relief  of  leprosy,  and  which  grappled  nobly,  though  inefiec- 
tually,  with  the  many  forms  of  suffering  that  were  generated. 
St.  Peter  Nolasco,  whose  great  labours  in  ransoming  captive 
Christians  I  ha^•e  already  noticed,  was  an  active  participator 


96  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

in  the  atrocious  massacre  of  the  Albigenses.'  Of  Shan© 
O'Neale,  one  of  the  ablest,  but  also  one  of  the  most  ferocious, 
Irish  chieftains  who  ever  defied  the  English  power,  it  is  i-e- 
lated,  amid  a  crowd  of  crimes,  that,  '  sitting  at  meat,  before 
he  put  one  morsel  into  his  mouth  he  used  to  slice  a  portion 
above  the  daily  alms,  and  send  it  to  some  beggar  at  his  gate^ 
saying  it  was  meet  to  serve  Christ  fii-st.'  ^ 

The  great  evils  produced  by  the  encouragement  of  mendi- 
cancy which  has  always  accompanied  the  uncontrolled  deve- 
lopment of  Catholicity,  have  naturally  given  rise  to  much 
discussion  and  legislation.  The  fierce  denunciations  of  the 
mendicant  orders  by  William  of  St.  Amour  in  the  thirteenth 
century  were  not  on  account  of  their  encouragement  of  mis- 
chievous charity ;  ^  but  one  of  the  disciples  of  Wyclifie,  named 
Nicholas  of  Hereford,  was  conspicuous  for  his  opposition  to 
indiscriminate  gifts  to  beggars ;  "*  and  a  few  measures  of  an 
extended  order  appear  to  have  been  taken  even  before  the 
Reformation.^  In  England  laws  of  the  most  savage  cruelty 
were  then  passed,  in  hopes  of  eradicating  mendicancy.  A 
parliament  of  Henry  VIII.,  before  the  suppression  of  the 
monasteries,  issued  a  law  providing  a  system  of  organised 
charity,  and  imposing  on  any  one  who  gave  anything  to  a 
beggar  a  fine  of  ten  times  the  value  of  his  gift.  A  stui-dy 
l)eggar  was  to  be  punished  with  whipping  for  the  first  ofience, 
with  wliipping  and  the  loss  of  the  tip  of  his  ear  for  the  second. 


'  See    Butler's    Lives    of    the  *  Henry     de     Knyghton,     De 

Saints.  Ecentibus  Anglia. 

*  Campion's  Historic  of  Ireland,  *  There  was  some  severe  legis- 
book  ii.  chap.  x.  tion   in    England   on    the  suhject 

*  He  WToie  his  Perils  of  the  Last  after  the  Bhick  Death.  Eden's 
Times  in  the  interest  of  the  Uni-  History  of  tlie  Working  Classes, 
versity  of  Paris,  of  •which  he  was  vol.  i.  p.  34.  In  Enmce,  too,  a 
H  Professor,  and  which  was  at  war  royal  ordinance  of  1350  ordered 
with  the  mendicant  orders.  See  men  wlio  had  heen  convicted  ?)f 
Miiman's  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  bcpging  three  times  to  he  bnin<1t>J 
vi.  pp.  348-3£G  ;  I'leury,  Ecd.  witli  a  liot  iron.  Monteil,  }J k. 
Hist.  Ixxxiv.  67.  d^s  Frangais,  tome  i.  p.  434. 


fROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  97 

Bii(]  with  dcatli  for  the  third.'     Under  Edward  YI.,  an  atro- 
cious  law,  which,  however,  was  repealed  in  the  same  reign, 
enacted  that  every  sturdy  beggar  who  refused  to  work  should 
be  branded,  and  adjudged  for  two  years  as  a  slave  to  the 
person  who  gave  information  against  him ;  and  if  he  toot 
flight  duiing  his  period  of  servitude,  he  was  condemned  for 
the  first  offence  to  perpetual  slavery,  and  for  the  second  to 
death.      The  master  was  authorised  to  put  a  ring  of  iron 
round  the  neck  of  his  slave,  to  chain  him,  and  to  scourge  him. 
Any  one  might  take  the  children  of  a  sturdy  beggar  for  ap- 
prentices, tUl  the  boys  were  twenty-four  and  the  girls  twenty.^ 
Another  law,  made  under  Elizabeth,  punished  with  death  any 
strong  man  under  the  age  of  eighteen  who  was  convicted  for 
the  thii-d  time  of  begging ;  but  the  penalty  in  this  reign  was 
afterwards  reduced  to  a  life-long  sei-vice  in  the  galleys,  or  to 
banishment,  with  a  penalty  of  death  to  the  returned  convict.^ 
Under  the  same  queen  the  poor-law  system  was  elaborated, 
and  Malthus  lonsj  afterwards  showed  that  its  effects  in  dis- 
couraging  parsimony  rendered  it  scarcely  less  pernicious  than 
the  monastic  system  that  had  preceded  it.     In  many  Catholic 
countries,  severe,  though  less  atrocious,  measures  were  taken 
to  grapple  with  the  evil  of  mendicancy.     That  shrewd  and 
sagacious  pontiif,   Sixtus  Y.,  who,  though  not  the  gi-eatest 
man,  was  by  far  the  greatest  statesman  who  has  ever  sat  on 
the  papal  throne,  made  praiseworthy  efforts  to  check  it  at 
Rome,  where  ecclesiastical  influence  had  always  made  it  pecu- 
liarly prevalent.*     Charles  Y.,  in  1531,  issued  a  severe  en- 
actment against  beggars  in  the  Netherlands,  but  excepted 
from  its  operation  mendicant  friars  and  pilgrims.*     Under 
LowTis  XIY.,  equally  severe  measures  were  taken  in  France. 
Uut  though  the  practical  evil  was  fully  felt,  there  was  little 


'  Eden,  vol.  i.  pp.  83-87.  de  Rome. 

'  Ibid.  pp.  101-lOS.  *  Kden,  History  of  the  Uih^uf 

*  Ibid.  pp.  127-130.  vig  Classes,  i.  83. " 

♦  Morighini,  Institutiotia picuses 


98  HISTOUT    OF    EUROPEAN    MORAT,=. 

pliilosophical  investigation  of  its  causes  beios'e  the  eighteenth 
century.  Locke  in  England,'  and  Berkeley  in  Ireland,^ 
briefly  glanced  at  the  subject ;  and  in  1704  Defoe  published  a 
very  remarkable  tract,  called,  '  GiA-ing  Alms  no  Charity,'  iu 
which  he  noticed  the  extent  to  which  mendicancy  existed  ui 
England,  though  wages  were  higher  than  in  any  Continental 
country.^  A  still  more  remarkable  book,  wiitten  by  an  author 
named  Ricci,  appealed  at  Modena  in  1787,  and  excited  con- 
siderable attention.  The  author  pointed  out  with  much  force 
the  gigantic  development  of  mendicancy  in  Italy,  traced  it  to 
the  excessive  charity  of  the  people,  and  appeal's  to  have  re- 
garded as  an  evil  all  charity  which  sprang  from  religious 
motives  and  was  greater  than  would  spring  from  the  unaided 
instincts  of  men.''  The  freethinker  Mandcville  had  long  befoie 
assailed  charity  schools,  and  the  whole  system  of  endeavouring 
to  elevate  the  poor,^  and  Magdalen  asylums  and  foundling 
hospitals  have  had  fierce,  though  I  believe  much  mistaken, 
adversaries.^     The  reforms  of  the  poor-laws,  and  the  writings 


'  Locke  discussed  tlie  great  in-  knowledge,    -when  I   Iiavo    WMiited 

crease  of  poverty,  and  a  bill  was  a    man    for   laKourirg   work,    and 

Vtrought  in   suggesting  somo  reme-  offered  nine  shillings  per  week  to 

dies,  but  did  not  pass.     (Edon.vul.  strolling  follows  at  my  door,  tliey 

i.  pp.  243-218.)  have  frequently  told  me  to  my  face 

■■^  In  a  very  forcible  letter  ad-  they  could  get  more  a-begging.' 
dressed  to  the  Irish  Catholic  clergy.  ■•  Reforma  d/gl'  Instituti  pii  di 

'  This  tract,  which  is  extremely  Modf.mi    (publislied    first     anony- 

valuable  for   the   liglit  it  throws  moiisly  Ht  Modena).     It  has  been 

upon  the  social  condition  of  Kng-  reprinted    in   the    library   of    the 

land  at  tiie  time,  was  written   in  Italian  economists, 
opposition  to  a  bill  providing  that  *  Exsay  on  Charity  Schooh. 

the  poor  in  the  poor-housi  s  should  *  JIagdalen  asylums  have  bopn 

do   wool,    hemp,    iron,    and   other  very    vehemently  assailed    by  M. 

works.     Defoo  says  that  wages  in  Charles   Comto,    in   his    TVai/e   de 

England    were    higher    than    nny-  Letjislatioii.      On    the    subject    of 

whereon  the  Continent,  though  the  Foundling   Hospitals    there    is    a 

amount  of    mendicancy  was  enor-  wiiole  literature.     They  were  vio- 

moiLs.  'The  reason  why  so  many  pre-  lently  attacked  by,  I  believe,  Lord 

tend  to  want  work  is,  that  they  can  Brougham,  in  the  EdmJmrph  Re- 

live  so  well   with   the  pretence  of  view,  in  the  cnrly  part  of  this  cen- 

wanlingwork.  .  .laffirmof  my  own  tury.     Writers  of  this  stamp,  and 


FROM    CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  99 

of  Malthus,  gave  a.  new  im^iulse  to  discussion  on  the  subject ; 
but,  with  the  qualifications  I  have  stated,  no  new  discoveries 
have,  I  conceive,  thrown  any  just  cloud  upon  the  essential 
principle  of  Christian  charity. 

/The  last  method  by  which  Christianity  has  laboured  t(» 
Boften  the  characters  of  men  has  been  by  accustoming  the 
imagination  to  expatiate  continually  upon  images  of  tender- 
ness and  of  pathos.  Our  imaginations,  though  less  influential 
than  our  occupations,  probably  affect  our  moral  characters 
more  deeply  than  our  judgments,  and,  in  the  case  of  the 
poorer  classes  especially,  the  cultivation  of  this  part  of  our 
nature  is  of  inestimable  importancje.  Rooted,  for  the  most 
part,  during  their  entire  lives,  to  a  single  spot,  excluded  by 
their  ignorance  and  their  circumstances  from  most  of  the 
varieties  of  interest  that  animate  the  minds  of  other  men, 
condemned  to  constant  and  plodding  labour,  and  engrossed 
for  ever  with  the  minute  cares  of  an  immediate  and  an 
anxious  present,  their  whole  natures  would  have  been  hope- 
lessly contracted,  were  there  no  sphere  in  which  their  imagi- 
nations could  expand.  Religion  is  the  one  romance  of  the 
poor.  It  alone  extends  the  narrow  horizon  of  their  thoughts, 
supplies  the  images  of  their  dreams,  allures  them  to  the  super- 
sensual  and  the  ideal.  The  graceful  beings  with  which  the 
creative  fancy  of  Paganism  peopled  the  universe  shed  a  poetic 
glow  on  the  peasant's  toil.  Every  stage  of  agriculture  waa 
presided  over  by  a  divioity.  and  the  world  grew  >)right  by 
the  companionship  of  the  gods.  Rut  it  is  the  peculiarity  vi 
the  Chiistian  types,  that,  while  they  have  fascinated  the 
imagination,  they  have  also  puritied  the  heart.  The  tender, 
wimiing,    and    almost   feminine    beauty    of    the    ChristLnn 

ijidoed   most  political  economists,  who  plunges  into  a  career  of  vice, 

greatly  exaggerate  the  fi>retlioupi)t  is  in  the  smallest  degree  influencod 

of  men  and  women,  especially  in  by  a  consideration    of  MhethtT  o: 

matters  where  the  passions  aro  ron-  not  charitable  in-'titntions  are  pm- 

^c.•■ned.      It    niay    he    questioned  vided  for  the  support  of  aged  peni 

wliether  one  woman  in  a  hundreil.  t-ents. 


(00  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

Foxmder,  the  Virgin  mother,  the  agonies  of  Gethsemune  or 
of  Calvary,  the  many  scenes  of  compassion  and  suffering  that 
fir  the  sacred  writings,  are  the  pictures  which,  for  eighteen 
L\indred  years,  have  governed  the  imaginations  of  the  rudest 
and  most  ignorant  of  mankind.  Associated  with  the  fondest 
recollections  of  childhood,  with  the  music  of  the  church  bells, 
with  the  clustered  lights  and  the  tinsel  splendour,  that  seem 
to  the  peasant  the  very  ideal  of  majesty ;  paiiited  over  the 
altar  where  he  received  the  companion  of  his  life,  around  the 
cemetery  where  so  many  whom  he  had  loved  were  laid,  on 
the  stations  of  the  mountain,  on  the  portal  of  the  vineyard, 
on  the  chapel  where  the  storm-tossed  mariner  fulfils  his 
grateful  vow ;  keeping  guard  over  his  cottage  door,  and  look- 
ing down  upon  his  humble  bed,  forms  of  tender  beauty  and 
gentle  pathos  for  ever  haunt  the  poor  man's  fancy,  and 
silently  win  their  way  into  the  very  depths  of  his  being. 
More  than  any  spoken  eloquence,  more  than  anv^^ogmatic 
teaching,  they  transform  and  subdue  his  character,  till  he 
learns  to  realise  the  sanctity  of  weakness  and  suffering,  the 
supreme  majesty  of  compassion  and  gentleness. 

Imperfect  and  inadequate  as  is  the  sketch  I  have  drawn, 
it  will  be  sufficient  to  show  how  gi-eat  and  multiform  have 
been  the  influences  of  Christian  philanthropy.  The  shadows 
that  rest  upon  the  picture,  I  have  not  concealed  ;  but,  when 
all  due  allowance  has  been  made  for  them,  enough  will 
remain  to  claim  our  deepest  adniLration.  The  high  concep- 
tion that  has  been  formed  of  the  sanctity  of  human  life,  the 
protection  of  infancy,  the  elevation  and  final  emancipation  of 
the  slave  classes,  the  suppression  of  barbarous  games,  the 
creation  of  a  vast  and  multifarious  organisation  of  charity, 
and  the  education  of  the  imagination  by  the  Christian  type, 
constitute  togetlier  a  movement  of  philanthropy  which  has 
never  been  paralleled  or  approached  in  the  Pagan  world.  The 
effects  of  this  movement  in  promoting  happiness  have  been 
vrery  great.     Its  effect  in  determining  character  has  proba>)ly 


FR05I    CONST ANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  101 

been  still  greater.  In  that  proportion  or  disposition  of 
qualities  which  constitutes  the  ideal  character,  the  gentler 
and  more  benevolent  vii-tues  have  obtained,  thi-ough  Chris- 
tianity, the  foremost  place.  In  the  first  and  purest  period 
Ihey  were  especially  supreme ;  but  in  the  third  century  a  greai 
ascetic  movement  arose,  which  gradually  brought  a  new  ty[>(' 
of  character  into  the  ascendant,  and  diverted  the  enthusiasni 
of  the  Church  into  new  channels. 

^ertullian,  writing  in  the  second  centuiy,  contrasts,  in  a 
well-known  passage,  the  Christians  of  his  day  with  the  gym- 
nosophists  or  hermits  of  India,  declaring  that,  unlike  these, 
the  Christians  did  not  fly  from  the  world,  but  mixed  with 
Pagans  in  the  forum,  in  the  market-places,  in  the  public 
baths,  in  the  ordiuary  business  of  life.*  But  although  the 
life  of  the  hermit  or  the  monk  was  imknown  in  the  Church 
for  more  than  two  hundied  years  after  its  foundation,  we 
may  detect,  almost  from  the  earliest  time,  a  tone  of  feeling 
which  produces  it.  The  central  conceptions  of  the  monastic 
system  are  the  meritoriousness  of  complete  abstinence  from 
aU  sexual  intercourse,  and  of  complete  renunciation  of  the 
world.  The  first  of  these  notions  appeared  in  the  very 
earliest  period,  in  the  respect  attached  to  the  condition  of 
virginity,  which  was  always  regarded  as  sacred,  and  especially 
esteemed  in  the  clergy,  though  for  a  long  time  it  was  not 
imposed  as  an  obligation.  The  second  was  shown  in  the 
numerous  eflfoi-ts  that  were  made  to  separate  the  Christian 
community  as  far  as  possible  from  the  society  in  which  it 
existed.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  that,  when 
the  increase  and  triumph  of  the  Church  had  thrown  the  bulk 
of  the  Christians  into  active  political  or  military  labour, 
Eome  should,  as  an  exercise  of  piety,  have  endeavoui-ed 
k)  imitate  the  separation  from  the  world  wliich  was  once 


'  Anal.  oh.  xlii. 
39 


102  TIISTOin-    OF    EUROPEAN    MOEALS. 

Llie  common  condition^of  all.  BesiJes  this,  a  movement  oJ 
asceticism  had  long  been  raging  like  a  mental  epidemic  through 
the  world.  Among  the  Jews — whose  law,  from  the  great, 
stress  it  laid  upon  marriage,  the  excellence  of  the  rapid  multi- 
plication of  population,  and  the  hope  of  being  the  ancestor 
of  the  ]\Iessiah,  was  peculiarly  repiignant  to  monastic  con- 
ceptions— the  Essenes  had  constituted  a  complete  monastic 
society,  abstaining  from  marriage  and  separating  themselves 
wholly  from  the  Avorld.  In  Rome,  whose  practical  genius 
was,  if  j)ossible,  even  more  opposed  than  that  of  the  Jews  to 
an  inactive  monasticism,  and  even  among  those  philosophers 
who  most  rejjresented  its  active  and  practical  spirit,  the 
same  tendency  was  shown.  The  Cynics  of  the  later  Empiie 
recommended  a  complete  renunciation  of  domestic  ties, 
and  a  life  spent  mainly  in  the  contemplation  of  wisdoni. 
The  Egyptian  j)hilosophy,  that  soon  aft^r  acquired  an  ascend- 
iincy  in  Europe,  anticipated  still  more  closely  the  monastic 
ideal.  On  the  outskirts  of  the  Church,  the  many  sects  of 
Gnostics  and  Manichcnns  all  held  under  different  forms  the 
essential  evil  of  matter.  The  Doceta?,  following  the  same 
notion,  denied  the  reality  of  the  body  of  ChrLst.  The  Mon- 
lanists  and  the  Novatians  surpasseil  and  stimulated  the  pri- 
vate penances  of  the  orthodox. '  The  soil  was  thus  thoroughly 
prepared  for  a  great  outbuist  of  .-iscetici.sm,  whenever  the  fii-st 
scetl  was  sown.  This  was  done  during  the  Decian  ))ersecu- 
t.ion.     Paul,  the  hermit,  who  fled  to  the  desert  durnig  that 


'  On  tlicsp  pcnanofs,  soo  liini,'-  f;ists,  and  gave  up  tlieir  property 
hum,  Aiiliq.  book  vii.  Eiiigliaiii,  to  works  of  charity;  but  did  tliis 
1  iliink,  justly  divides  the  liistory  in  the  middle  of  society  and  with- 
Df  ajrceticism  into  three  periods,  out  leading  the  life  of  either  a 
During  the  first,  which  extends  hermit  or  a  nmnk.  Luring  the 
from  the  founilation  of  the  Church  sccoml  period,  M'hich  extended  frnm 
lo  A.I).  250,  there  were  men  and  the  Decian  persecution,  anchorites 
women  who,  with  a  view  to  spiritual  were  numerous,  but  the  custom  of 
perfection,  abstained  from  mar-  a  common  or  coenobitic  life  was  Mu- 
riate, r(!linquished  amusements,  known.  It  was  originnted  in  the 
MCciBtomed   themselves  to   severe  time  of  Constantine  byPachomixui, 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGISE.  103 

persecution,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  of  the  tribe.  * 
Antony,  who  speedily  followed,  greatly  extended  the  move- 
ment, and  in  a  few  years  the  heimits  ha  1  become  a  mighty 
nation.  Persecution,  which  in  the  first  instance  drove  great 
numbers  as  fugitives  to  the  deserts,  soon  aroused  a  passionate 
religious  enthusiasm  that  showed  itself  in  an  ardent  desii-e 
for  those  sufferings  which  were  believed  to  lead  directly  to 
heaven ;  and  this  enthusiasm,  after  the  peace  of  Constantino, 
found  its  natural  vent  and  sphere  in  the  macerations  of  the 
desert  life.  The  imaginations  of  men  were  fascinated  by  the 
poetic  circumstances  of  that  life  which  St.  Jerome  most  elo- 
quently embellished.  Women  were  pre-eminent  in  recruit 
ing  for  it.  The  same  spirit  that  had  formerly  led  the  wife 
of  the  Pagan  ofiicial  to  entertain  secret  relations  with  the 
Christian  priests,  now  led  the  wife  of  the  Cliristian  to  become 
the  active  agent  of  the  monks.  While  the  father  designed 
his  son  for  the  army,  or  for  some  civil  post,  the  mother 
was  often  straining  every  nerve  to  induce  him  to  become  a 
hermit.  The  monks  secretly  corresponded  with  her,  they 
skilfully  assumed  the  functions  of  education,  in  order  that 
they  might  influence  the  young;  and  sometimes,  to  evade 
the  precautions  or  the  anger  of  the  father,  they  con- 
cealed their  profession,  and  assumed  the  garb  of  lay  peda- 
gogues.2  The  pulpit,  which  had  almost  superseded,  and 
immeasurably  transcended  in  influence,  the  chairs  of  the 
rhetoricians,  and  which  was  filled  by  such  men  as  Ambrose, 
Augustine,  Chrysostom,  Basil,  and  the  Gregories,  was  con- 
tinually exerted  in  the  same  cause,  and  the  extreme 
luxury  of  the  great  cities  produced  a  violent,  but  not  un- 
natural, reaction  of  asceticism.  The  dignity  of  the  monastic 
position,,  which  sometimes  brought  men  who  had  been  simple 

'  Tbis   is   expressly  staled  hy  Cfiri/sosfom.    St.  Chrysostom  wrote 

St.  Jerome  (  Vif.  Puuli).  a  long  work  to  console  lathers  whose 

*  See  on  this  subject  some  curi-  sons   vere    thus    seduced    to   the 

ous  evidence  in  Ncaiider'a /,//c  </  desert. 


104  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

peasants  into  connection  with  the  emperors,  the  security  it 
furnished  to  fugitive  slaves  and  criminals,  the  desire  of 
escaping  from  those  fiscal  burdens  which,  in  the  corrupt  and 
oppiessive  administration  of  the  Empire,  had  acquired  an 
intolerable  weight,  and  especially  the  barbarian  invasions, 
which  produced  every  variety  of  panic  and  wretchedness, 
conspired  with  the  new  religious  teaching  in  peopling  the 
desert.  A  theology  of  asceticism  was  speedily  formed.  The 
examples  of  Elijah  and  Elisha,  to  the  first  of  whom,  by  a 
bold  flight  of  imagination,  some  later  Carmelites  ascribed 
the  origin  of  their  order,  and  the  more  recent  instance  of  the 
Baptist,  were  at  once  adduced.  To  an  ordinary  layman  the 
life  of  an  anchoiite  might  appear  in  the  highest  degree  opposed 
to  that  of  the  Teacher  who  began  His  mission  at  a  marriage 
feast ;  who  was  continiially  reproached  by  His  enemies  for 
the  readiness  with  which  He  mixed  with  the  world,  and  who 
selected  from  the  female  sex  some  of  His  purest  and  most 
devoted  followers ;  but  the  monkish  theologians,  avoiding, 
for  the  most  part,  these  topics,  dilated  chiefly  on  His  immacu- 
late birth.  His  virgin  mother.  His  life  of  celibacy.  His  exhoi-t- 
ation  to  the  rich  young  man.  The  fact  that.  St.  Peter,  to 
whom  a  general  primacy  was  already  aHcril)ed,  was  unques- 
tionably married  was  a  difl&culty  which  was  in  'a  measure 
met  by  a  tradition  that  both  he,  and  the  other  married 
apostles,  abstained  from  intercourse  with  their  wives  afte*" 
their  conversion.'  8t.  Paul,  however,  was  probably  un 
married,  and  his  wi-itings  showed  a  decided  preference  for 
the  mimarried  state,  wliich  tlic  ingenuity  of  theologians  also 
discovered  in  some  quarteis  whore  it  might  1)0  least  expected. 
Thus,  St.  Jerome  assures  us  tliat  when  the  clean  animals 
entered  the  ark  by  sevens,  and  the  unclean  onei  by  pairs,  the 
odd  number  tyi)ified  the  celibate,  and  the  oven  the  married 
condition.     Even  of  the  unclean  animals  but  one  pair  of  each 


'  On  this  tradition  tee  Cliampagny,  L/s  Aulonins,  tome  i.  p.  IflH. 


FROM    COXSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  105 

kind  was  admitted,  lest  they  should  perpetrate  the  enormity 
of  second  marriage.'  Ecclesiastical  tradition  sustained  the 
tendency,  and  St.  James,  as  he  has  been  portrayed  by  Hege- 
sippus,  became  a  kind  of  ideal  saint,  a  faithful  picture  of 
what,  according  to  the  notions  of  theologians,  was  the  true 
type  of  human  nobility.  He  '  was  consecrated,'  it  was  said, 
*  from  his  mother's  womb.  He  drank  neither  wine  nor  fer- 
mented liquors,  and  abstained  from  animal  food.  A  razor 
never  came  upon  his  head.  He  never  anointed  himself  with 
oil,  or  used  a  bath.  He  alone  was  allowed  to  enter  the  sanc- 
tuary. He  never  wore  woollen,  but  linen,  garments.  He  was 
in  the  habit  of  entering  the  temple  alone,  and  was  often  found 
upon  his  bended  knees,  and  interceding  for  the  forgiveness  of 
the  people,  so  that  his  knees  became  as  hard  as  a  camel's.'  ^ 

The  progress  of  the  monastic  movement,  as  has  been 
truly  said,  'was  not  less  rapid  or  universal  than  that  of 
Christianity  itself.'  ^  Of  the  actual  number  of  the  anchorites, 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  extreme  unveracity  of  the 
first  historians  of  the  movement  will  hesitate  to  speak  with 
confidence.  It  is  said  that  St.  Pachomius,  who,  early  in  the 
fourth  century,  founded  the  ccenobitic  mode  of  life,  enlisted 
under  his  jurisdiction  7,000  monks/  that  in  the  days  of  St. 
Jex'ome  nearly  50,000  monks  were  sometimes  assembled  at 
the  Easter  festivals  ;  ^  that  in  the  deseiH.  of  Nitria  alone  there 
were,  in  the  fourth  centurj^  5,000  monks  under  a  single 
abbot ;  ^  that  an  Egyptian  city  named  Oxyrynchits  devoted  it- 
self almost  exclusively  to  the  ascetic  life,  and  included  20,000 
vii-gins  and  10,000  monks  ;^  that  St.  Sei-apion  presided  over 
10,000  monks;®  and  that,  towards  the  close  of  the  fourth 
centurj',  the  monastic  population  in  a  gi-oat  part  of  Egy])t 

'  Ep.  cxxiii.  *  Jerome.  Preface  to  the  R'.lo 

"  Euseb.  Eccl.  Hist.  ii.  23.  of  St.  Piichomius,  §  7- 

^  Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall,  ch.  ^  Cassian,  De  Coenoh.  Ivst.  iv.  1. 

isxvii.;  a  brief  but  masterly  sketch  '  Kufinus,  Hist.  Moiiach.  ch.  v. 

>1  the  progress  of  the  movement.  Riifimis  visited  it  himself. 

*  Palladius  Hist.  Laus.x\x\'n\.  "  Pail.xdius,  Hint.  Laus.  Ixxvi, 


106  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

was  nearly  equal  to  the  population  of  the  cities.'  Egypt 
was  the  par-ent  of  monachism,  and  it  was  there  that  it  attained 
both  its  extreme  development  and  its  most  austere  severity ; 
but  there  was  very  soon  scarcely  any  Chiistian  country  in 
which  a  similar  movement  was  not  aidently  propagated.  St. 
Athanasius  and  St.  Zeno  are  said  to  have  intix)duced  it  into 
Italy j'^  where  it  soon  afterwards  received  a  great  stimulus 
from  St.  Jerome.  St.  Hilarion  instituted  the  first  monks  in 
Palestine,  and  he  lived  to  see  many  thousands  subject  to  his 
rule,  and  towards  the  close  of  his  life  to  plant  monachism  in 
Cyprus.  Eustathius,  Bishop  of  Sebastia,  spread  it  through 
Armenia,  Paphlagonia,  and  Pontus.  St.  Basil  laboui-ed 
along  the  wild  shores  of  the  Euxine.  St.  Martin  of  Tours 
founded  the  first  monastery  in  Gaul,  and  2,000  monks  at- 
tended his  funeral.  Unrecorded  missionaries  ])lanted  the 
new  institution  in  the  heart  of  Ethiopia,  amid  the  little 
islands  that  stud  the  Mediterranean,  in  the  sechuled  valleys 
of  Wales  and  Ireland.^  But  even  more  wonderful  than  the 
many  thousands  who  thus  abandoned  the  world  is  the  rever- 
ence with  which  they  were  regarded  by  those  who,  by  their 
attainments  or  their  character,  would  seem  most  opi)osed  to 
the  monastic  ideal.  No  one  had  more  reason  than  Augustine 
'^  to  know  the  danger  of  enforced  celibacy,  but  St.  Augustine 
*  exerted  all  his  energies  to  spread  monasticism  through  his 
diocese.  St.  Ambrose,  who  was  by  nature  an  acute  states- 
man ;  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Basil,  who  were  ambitious  scholars ; 


'  Iliifiniis,  //i.?^  .l/r-n.  vii.  tion  about  moiiacliism.     A   curious 

*  There  is  af^oocl  deal  of  doiilit  collection  of  statistics  of  I  ho  mini- 
and  controversy  about  this.  Sec  a  bers  of  the  monks  in  different 
note  in  Mosheim's  Eccl.  Hist,  localities,  additional  to  those  I 
^Soamo's  edition),  vol.  i.  p.  Sol.  have  given  and  f,de.ined  from  the 

*  Most  of  the  passages  remaininf^  Licrs  of  the  Saints,  may  he  found 
on  the  sniijuct  of  the  foundation  of  in  Pitra  (  Vie  de  St.  l.a/er,  Introd. 
monachism  are  given  by  Thomas-  p.  lix.) ;  2,100,  or,  accordiiip  to 
sin,  Discipline  de  I'l'.'f/lise,  part  i.  another  account,  3,000  monks, lived 
livre  iii.  oh.  xii.  This  work  con-  in  the  monastery  of  Banchor. 
f.«ins  also  much  general    informa- 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  107 

St.  Chrvsostom,  who  was  pre-eminently  formed  to  sway  tlie 
refined  throngs  of  a  metropolis— all  exerted  their  powers  in 
favour  of  the  life  of  solitude,  and  the  last  three  practised  it 
themselves.  St.  Arsenius,  who  was  sm-passed  by  no  one  in 
the  extravagance  of  his  penances,  had  held  a  high  ofiice  at 
the  court  of  the  Emperor  Arcadius.  Pilgrims  wandered 
among  the  deserts,  collecting  accounts  of  the  miracles  and 
the  austerities  of  the  saints,  which  filled  Christendom  with 
admiration ;  and  the  strange  biographies  which  were  thus 
formed,  wild  and  gi-otesque  as  they  are,  enable  us  to  realise 
very  vividly  the  general  features  of  the  anchorite  life  which 
became  the  new  ideal  of  the  Christian  world.' 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  phase  in  the  moral  history  of  man-  • 
kind  of  a  deeper  or  more  painful  interest  than  this  ascetic 
epidemic.  A  hideous,  sordid,  and  emaciated  maniac,  without 
knowledge,  without  patriotism,  without  natural  aflfection, 
passing  his  life  in  a  long  routine  of  useless  and  atrocious 
self-torture,  and  quailing  before  the  ghastly  phantoms  of  his 
delirious  braia,  had  become  the  ideal  of  the  nations  which 
had  known  the  writinsfs  of  Plato  and  Cicero  and  the  lives  of 
Socrates  and  Cato.  For  about  two  centuries,  the  hideous 
maceration  of  the  body  was  regarded  as  the  highest  proof  of 
excellence.     St.  Jerome  declares,  with  a  thrill  of  admiration. 


'  The  three  principal  are  the  first    and    last,    as    well   as    many 

Historia  Monachorum  of  Rufiniis,  minor  -works  of  the  same  period, 

who  visited  Egypt  ad.  373,  about  are  given  in  Rosweyde's  invaluable 

seventeen  years  after  the  death  of  collection   of  the  lives  of  the  Fa- 

St.  Antony ;    the    Institiitioncs   of  thers,  one  »{  the  most  fascinatinii 

Oassian,  who,   having    visited  the  volumes    in    the    whole    range   oJ 

Eastern    monks    about    a.d.    394.  literaturt-. 

foundr'd  vast  monasteries  contain-  The  hospitality  of  the  monks 

ing,    it    is    said,   5,000    monks,    at  was  not  without  drawbacks.     In  a 

Marseilles,  and  died  at  a  great  ago  church    on    Mount    Nitria    three 

about  A.D.  448;    and  the  Historia  whips  were  hung  on  a  palm-tree — 

iMUsiuca  (so  called  from  Lansus,  one  for  chastisiiig  monks,  anotlief 

GoTei-nor  of  Cappadocia)  of  Pal-  for  chastising  thieves,  and  a  third 

ladins,  who  was  himself  a  hermit  for  chastising  guests.     (Palladius 

on  ]\Iount  Nitria,  in  a.d.  388.   The  His',.  Laus.  vii.) 


108  niSTOIiY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

how  he  had  seen  a  monk,  who  for  thirty  years  had  lived 
exclusively  on  a  small  portion  of  barley  bread  and  of  muddy 
water ;  another,  who  lived  in  a  hole  and  never  ate  more  than 
five  figs  for  his  daily  repast ;  ^  a  thii'd,  who  cut  his  hair  only 
on  Easter  Sunday,  who  never  washed  his  clothes,  who  never 
changed  his  tunic  till  it  fell  to  pieces,  who  starved  himself 
till  his  eyes  grew  dim,  and  his  skin  '  like  a  pumice  stone,' 
and  whose  merits,  shown  by  these  austerities.  Homer  himself 
would  be  unable  to  recount.^  For  six  months,  it  is  said, 
St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria  slept  in  a  marsh,  and  exposed  his 
body  naked  to  the  stings  of  venomous  flies.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  carry  about  with  him  eighty  pounds  of  iron. 
His  disciple,  St,  Eusebius,  carried  one  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  of  iron,  and  lived  for  three  years  in  a  dried-up  well. 
St.  Sabinus  would  only  eat  corn  that  had  become  rotten 
by  remaining  for  a  month  in  water.  St.  Beaarion  spent 
forty  days  and  nights  in  the  middle  of  thorn -bushes,  and  for 
forty  years  never  lay  down  when  he  slept,^  which  last  penance 
was  also  during  fifteen  years  practised  by  St.  Pachomius.'* 
Some  saints,  like  St.  Marcian,  restricted  themselves  to  one 
meal  a  day,  so  small  that  they  continually  sufitTed  the  pangs 
of  hunger,"  Of  one  of  them  it  is  related  that  his  daily  food 
was  six  ounces  of  bread  and  a  few  herbs ;  that  he  was  never 
seen  to  recline  on  a  mat  or  bed,  or  even  to  place  liis  limbs 
easily  for  sleep ;  but  that  sometimes,  from  excess  of  weari- 
ness, his  eyes  would  close  at  his  meals,  and  the  food  would 
drop  from  his  mouth.^  Other  saints,  however,  ate  only 
every   second  day ;  ^    while  many,   if    we  could  believe  the 

'    Vita  Paii/i.    St.  Jeromo  adds,  scrvir  a  /'Hist,  eccles.  tome  viii. 
tliiit   some  will    not  believe    this,  *  TiVcfi /'«(!/•«?« (PachomiuH).  lie 

hucauso  they  have   no   faith,  but  used  to  lean   against  a  Mall  wlicii 

tiiat   uU    tilings    arc    possible    fr  overcome  liy  drowsiness, 
those  that  boliove.  *  Viiee  I'atriiin,  ix.  3. 

'  Vita  St.  Hilarion.  *  Suzomc-n,  vi.  29. 

•  See  a  long  list  of  these  pen-  '  E.g.  St.  Antony,  according  to 

»ncos    in    Tillemont,    Mem.    pour  his  biographer  St.  Athanaeius. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.         *      109 

tnoiikLsli  historian,  abstained  for  whole  weeks  from  all 
nourishment.^  St.  Macariiis  of  Alexafidria  is  said  during 
an  entire  week  to  have  never  lain  down,  or  eaten  any- 
thing but  a  few  uncooked  herbs  on  Sunday.  ^  Of  another 
famous  saint,  named  John,  it  is  assei-ted  that  for  three 
whole  years  he  stood  in  prayer,  leaning  upon  a  rock ;  that 
during  aU  that  time  he  never  sat  or  lay  down,  and  that 
his  only  noiu-ishment  was  the  Sacrament,  which  was  brought 
him  on  Sundays.^  Some  of  the  hermits  lived  in  deserted 
dens  of  wild  beasts,  others  in  dried- vip  wells,  while  others 
found  a  congenial  resting-place  among  the  tombs.'*  Some 
disdained  all  clothes,  and  crawled  abroad  ILke  the  wild  beasts, 
covered  only  by  theii*  matted  hail'.  In  Mesopotamia,  and 
part  of  Syi-ia,  there  existed  a  sect  known  by  the  name  of 
'  Grazers,'  who  never  lived  under  a  roof,  who  ate  neither 
flesh  nor  bread,  but  who  spent  their  time  for  ever  on  the 
mountain  side,  and  ate  gi-ass  like  cattle.^  The  cleanliness 
of  the  body  was  regarded  as  a  pollution  of  the  soul,  and 
the  saints  who  were  most  admii-ed  had  become  one  hideous 
mass  of  clotted  filth.     St.  Athanasius  relates  with  enthu- 


'  '  11  y  eut  dans  le   desert  de  Presbyter  enim  tunc  veniebat  ad 

Scet^  des  solitaires  d'une  eminente  eum  et  offerebat  pro  eo  sacnliciuiii 

perfection.  .    .   .    On  pretend  quo  idque  ei  solum  sacramentum  eiat 

pour  Tordinaire  ils  passoient  des  et  victus.' — Eufinus,  Hist.  Moiiach. 

semaines    entieres    sans    manger,  cap.  xv. 

mais  apparemnient  cela  ne  se  fai-  ■*  Thus  St.  Antony  used  to  live 

soit  que  dans  des  occasions  parli-  in  a  tomb,  where  he  was  beaten  by 

culieres.' — Tillemont,    Mem.  jjcur  the  devil.    (St.  Athanasius,  Life  of 

servir  a  Vllist.  eccl.  tome  v:ii.  p.  Antony.) 

580.     Even  this,  however,  was  ad-  '  fio<TKo[.     Pee  on   tlicso  nionJai 

mirable  !  Sozomcn,  vi.  33;    Evagrius,  i.  21. 

-  ralladius,  Hist.  Lnus.  cap.  xx.  It  is  mentioned  of  a   certain  St. 

^  '  Prinumi  cum    accessisset  ad  Marc  of  Atlu'us,  that,  having  lived 

eremum  tribus  continuis  annis  sub  for  thirty  years   naked  in  the  de- 

cujusdam  saxi  rupe  stans,  semper  sert,   his    body   was   covered   with 

OPJivit,  ita  ut  nunquam  oinnino  re-  hair    like    that   of  a   wild    btast. 

scderit  neque  Jacuerit.    Somni  au-  (BoUandists,  March  29.)    St.  Mary 

tem  tantum  caperet,  quantum  stans  of  Egypt,  during  part  of  her  period 

capere    potuit ;    cibnra    vero    nui-  of    penance,     lived     upon     grass 

qtiam  sumpserat  nisi  die  Dominica.  {Vita;  Putrinn.) 


110  IIISTOUY    OF    EDllOPEAN    MORALS. 

siasm  how  St.  Antony,  the  patriarch  of  monachifem,  had 
never,  to  extreme  old  age,  been  guilty  of  washing  his  feet.' 
The  less  constant  St.  Poemen  fell  into  this  habit  for  the 
first  time  when  a  very  old  man,  and,  with  a  glimmering  of 
common  sense,  defended  himself  against  the  astonished  monks 
by  saying  that  he  had  '  leaint  to  kill  not  his  body,  but  his 
passions.'  ^  St.  Abraham  the  hermit,  howevei-,  who  lived 
for  fifty  years  after  his  conversion,  rigidly  refused  from  that 
date  to  wash  either  his  face  or  his  feet.-^  He  was,  it  is  said, 
a  person  of  singular  beauty,  and  his  biographer  somewhat 
strangely  remarks  that  *  his  face  reflected  the  purity  of  hm 
soul.'*  St.  Ammon  had  never  seen  himself  naked. '^  A 
famous  virgin  named  Silvia,  though  she  was  sixty  years  old 
and  though  bodily  sickness  was  a  consequence  of  her  habits, 
resolutely  refused,  on  religious  principles,  to  wash  any  part 
of  her  body  except  her  fingers. <*  St.  Euphraxia  joined  a  con- 
vent of  one  hundred  and  thii-ty  nuns,  who  never  washed 
their  feet,  and  who  shuddered  at  the  mention  of  a  bath.^  An 
auchoiite  once  imagined  tliat  he  was  mocked  by  an  illusion 
of  the  devil,  as  he  saw  gliding  before  liim  through  the  desert 
a  naked  creature  black  with  filth  and  years  of  exposure,  and 
with  white  hair  floating  to  the  wind.  It  was  a  once  beautiful 
woman,  St.  Mary  of  Egypt,  who  had  thus,  during  forty-seven 

'  Lije  of  Antony.  pedes  a  die  convcrsionis  suae  nun- 

^'11  nc  faisoit   pas  an.'isi  diffi-  quam  dlluti   sunt.' — Viice  I'atrum, 

culte  d*ns  sa  vioillcsst  de  .so  lavur  c.  xvii. 

quolquefois  les  pioz.     Etcoir.meon  *  '  In  facie  qjus    piirita.s  animi 

toiiioignoit  s'en  itonner  ct  troiivcf  iios^cbatur.' — Ibid.  i'.  xviii. 

que  cela  no  repondoit  pas  a  la  vie  ''  Socrates,  iv.  23. 

austiro  des  aneiciis,  il  se  juslilioit  "  Heraclidis     Paradisus    (Koa- 

par  ees  paroles:  Nou.s  avons  ajipris  weydej,  c.  xlii. 

i  tuer,  non  pas  notro  corps  inais  '  'Nnll.i  canini  pedes mios  abliio- 

Q08    passions.' — Tillcmont,    Mi-m.  bat;  aliquantic  vero  audiiMitcs  de 

Hlft.  eccl.  t<jme  xv.  p.  148.      'liiis  balneo  loqui,  irridentes,  eonfiisio- 

s.iint  -was    so  very  virtuous,   tliat  nem  ct  masnam  aboiiiiniitionem  so 

he    sometimps    remained    williout  auilire  judicabant,  qii;e  nequo  audi- 

VMting  for  wliolo  weeks.  tuni  suuin  hoc  aiidiro  patiebuntur.' 

"'Non    appropinqiiavit  oleum  — Vit.    8.  Eiqikrax.  c.  \\.      (KoB' 

co'puBC'do  ejus.     Facies  vel  itiam  wo}de.) 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  Ill 

yeai-s,  been  expiating  her  sins.^  The  occasional  decudence 
of  the  monks  into  habits  of  decency  was  a  subject  of  mucth 
reproach.  '  Our  fathers,'  said  the  abbot  Alexander,  looking 
moiu-nfuUy  back  to  the  past,  '  never  washed  theii-  faces,  but 
we  frequent  the  public  baths.' ^  It  was  related  of  one  mo- 
nasteiy  in  the  desert,  that  the  monks  suffered  greatly  from 
want  of  water  to  drink ;  but  at  the  prayer  of  the  abbot 
Theodosius  a  copious  stream  was  produced.  But  soon  some 
monks,  tempted  by  the  abundant  supply,  diverged  from  their 
old  austerity,  and  persuaded  the  abbot  to  avail  himself  of 
the  stream  for  the  construction  of  a  bath.  The  bath  was 
made.  Once,  and  once  only,  did  the  monks  enjoy  their 
ablutions,  when  the  stream  ceased  to  flow.  Prayers,  teais, 
and  fastings  were  in  vain.  A  whole  year  passed.  At  last 
the  abbot  destroyed  the  bath,  which  was  the  object  of  the 
Divine  displeasure,  and  the  waters  flowed  afresh.^  But  of 
all  the  evidences  of  the  loathsome  excesses  to  which  this 
spirit  was  canied,  the  life  of  St.  Simeon  Stylites  is  probably 
the  most  remarkable.  It  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a 
more  horrible  or  disgusting  picture  than  is  given  of  the 
penances  by  which  that  saint  commenced  his  ascetic  career. 
He  had  bound  a  rope  around  him  so  that  it  became  im- 


'  See  her  acts,  Bollandists,  April  genus  was  accustomed  to  pray  for 

2,  and  in  the  Vitm  Patrum.  an   hour   every  niffliL  in  a  pool  of 

*' Patres  nostri  nunquam  fades  cold  water,  whiln  the  devil  sent  a 

suas  lavabant,  nos  auteni  lavacra  liorrible  beast  to  swim  round  him. 

publica    balneaque    frequentamus.'  An  angel,  however,  was  sent  to  him 

— Moschus,      rraium     Spiritualc,  for    three    purposes.      '  Tribus   dn 

clxviii.  causis  a  Domino  missus  est  angelus 

»  Praiuin  Spiriiindc,  Ixxx.  iiii  ad  S.  Coomgenum.     Prima  ut  a 

An  Irish  saint,    named  Goem-  diversis    suis    gravibus    laboribus 

genus,  is  said  to  havo  shown  liis  levins  viveret  paulisper  ;   socunda 

devotion  in  a  way  which  was  di-  ut  horridam  bestiam  sancto  infes- 

rectly  opposite  to  that  of  the  other  tarn  repelleret;    tertia  itt  friqidi- 

saints  I  havo   mentioned— by  his  iatc/n  aqum  c«/<;A(cer^■^'— Bollaud- 

spocial  use  of  cold  water— biit  the  i^ts,  June  3.    The  editors  say  these 

priniple  in  eacli  ease  was  the  same  nets  are  of  dr-ubtfil  Rutlionticily. 
—  to   mortify   nature.      St.  Coem- 


112  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

bedded  in  his  flesh,  which  putrefied  around  it.  '  A  homble 
stench,  intolerable  to  the  bystanders,  exhaled  from  his  body, 
and  worms  dropped  from  him  whenever  he  moved,  and  they 
filled  his  bed.  Sometimes  he  left  the  monastery  and  slept  in 
a  dry  well,  inhabited,  it  is  said,  hy  dsemons.  He  built  suc- 
cessively three  pillars,  the  last  being  sixty  feet  high  and 
scarcely  two  cubits  in  circumference,  and  on  this  pillar, 
during  thirty  years,  he  remained  exposed  to  eveiy  change  of 
climate,  ceaselessly  and  rapidly  bending  his  body  in  prayer 
almost  to  the  level  of  his  feet.  A  spectator  attempted  to 
number  these  rapid  motions,  but  desisted  from  weariness 
when  he  had  counted  1,244.  For  a  whole  year,  we  are  told, 
St.  Simeon  stood  upon  one  leg,  the  other  being  covered  with 
hideous  ulcers,  wliile  his  biographer  was  commissioned  to 
stand  by  his  side,  to  pick  Tip  the  worms  that  fell  from  his 
body,  and  to  replace  them  in  the  sores,  the  saint  saying  to 
the  worm,  '  Eat  what  God  has  given  you.'  From  every 
quarter  pilgrims  of  every  degree  thronged  to  do  him  homage. 
A  crowd  of  prelates  followed  him  to  the  grave.  A  brilliant 
star  is  said  to  have  shone  miraculously  over  his  pillar  ;  the 
general  voice  of  mankind  pronounced  him  to  be  the  highest 
model  of  a  Christian  saint ;  and  several  other  anchorites  imi- 
tated or  emulated  his  penances.' 

There  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  no  department  of  literature  the 
importance  of  which  is  more  inadequately  realised  than  the 
lives  of  the  saints.  Even  whei-e  they  have  no  direct  histori- 
cal value,  they  have  a  moral  value  of  the  very  highest  order. 
Tliey  may  not  tell  us  with  accuiacy  what  men  did  at  parti- 
cular epochs  ;  but  they  <Usplay  with  the  utmost  vividness 
what  they  thought  and  felt,  their  measure  of  probability,  and 
their  ideal  of  excellence.  Decrees  of  councils,  elaborate  trea- 
li.,c6  of  theologians,  creeds,  liturgies,  and  canons,  are  all  but 


'See    liis  Life  In-  liis  diHcipl*-     prius,  i.  13,  H.     Th.n(l(jret,  I'hilo 
Aiitonv,  in  the  Vita' Pafi-ini'.  Kv.i-     /A^o.',  cup.  .\xvi. 


FROM   CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  113 

tlie  husks  of  religious  history.  They  reveal  what  was  pro- 
fessed and  argued  before  the  world,  but  not  that  which  was 
realised  in  the  imagination  or  enshrined  in  the  heart.  The 
history  of  art,  which  in  its  ruder  day  reflected  with  delicate 
fidelity  the  fleeting  images  of  an  anthi-opomorphic  age,  is  in 
this  respect  invaluable ;  but  still  more  important  is  that  vast 
Christian  mythology,  which  grew  up  spontaneously  from  the 
intellectual  condition  of  the  time,  included  all  its  dearest 
hopes,  wishes,  ideals,  and  imaginings,  and  constituted,  dxiring 
many  centuries,  the  popular  literature  of  Christendom.  In 
the  case  of  the  saints  of  the  deserts,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  the  picture — which  is  di-awn  chiefly  by  eye-witnesses  — 
however  grotesque  may  be  some  of  its  details,  is  in  its  leading 
features  historically  tiiie.  It  is  true  that  self-torture  was  for 
some  centuries  regarded  as  the  chief  measure  of  human  ex 
cellence,  that  tens  of  thousands  of  the  most  devoted  men  fled 
to  the  desert  to  reduce  themselves  by  maceration  nearly  to  the 
condition  of  the  brute,  and  that  this  odious  superstition  had 
acquired  an  almost  absolute  ascendancy  in  the  ethics  of  the  age. 
The  examples  of  asceticism  I  have  cited  are  but  a  few  out  of 
many  hundreds,  and  volumes  might  be  written,  and  have  been 
written,  detailing  them.  Till  the  reform  of  St.  Benedict,  the 
ideal  was  on  the  whole  unchanged.  The  Western  monks,  from 
the  conditions  of  their  climate,  were  constitutionally  incapable 
of  rivalling  the  abstinence  of  the  Egyptian  anchorites ;  but 
their  conception  of  supreme  excellence  was  much  the  same, 
and  they  laboiu'ed  to  compensate  for  their  inferiority  in 
penances  by  claiming  some  superiority  in  miracles.  From 
the  time  of  St.  Pachomius,  the  ccenobitic  life  was  adopted  by 
most  monks ;  but  the  Eastern  monasteries,  with  the  iuipor- 
tant  exception  of  a  vow  of  obedience,  diflex-ed  little  from  a 
collection  of  hermitages.  They  were  in  the  deserts ;  the  monks 
commonly  lived  in  separate  cells ;  they  kept  silence  at  their 
repasts;  they  rivalled  one  another  in  the  extravagance  oi 
their  penances.     A  few  feeble  efforts  were  indeed  made  by 


114  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

St,  Jerome  and  others  to  moderate  austerities,  which  fre- 
quently led  to  insanity  and  suicide,  to  check  the  tui'bulence 
of  certain  wandering  monks,  who  were  accustomed  to  defy 
the  ecclesiastical  authorities,  and  especially  to  suppress  mo- 
nastic mendicancy,  which  had  appeared  prominently  among 
some  heretical  sects.     The  oi-thodox  monks  commonly  em- 
ployed themselves   in  weaving  mats  of  palm-leaves ;   but, 
liviag  in  the  deserts,  with  no  wants,  they  speedily  sank  into 
a   listless  apathy ;   and  the  most  admired  were  those  who, 
like  Simeon  Stylites,  and  the  hermit  John,  of  whom  I  have 
already  spoken,  were  most  exclusively  devoted  to  their  super- 
stition.    Diversities  of  individual  character  were,  however, 
vividly  displayed.      Many  anchorites,   without   knowledge, 
passions,  or  imagination,  having  fled  fiom  servile  toil  to  the 
calm  of  the  wilderness,  passed  the  long  hours  in  sleep  or  in  a 
mechanical  routine  of  prayer,  and  their  inert  and  languid 
existences,  prolonged  to  the  extreme  of  old  age,  closed  at  last 
by  a  tranquil  and  almost  animal  death.     Others  made  their 
cells  by  the  clear  foimtains  and  clustering  palm-trees  of  some 
oasis  in  the  desert,  and  a  blooming  garden  arose  beneath  their 
toil.     The  numerous  monks  who  followed  St.  Serapion  de- 
voted themselves  largely  to  agriculture,  and  sent  shiploads  of 
corn  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor.'     Of  one  old  hermit  it  is 
related  that,  such  was  the  cheerfulness  of  his  mind,  that 
every  sorrow  was  dispelled  by  his  presence,  and  the  weary 
and  the  heartbroken  were  consoled  by  a  few  words  from  his 
lips.^     More  commonly,  however,  the  hermit's  cell  was  the 
scene  of  perpetual  mourning.     Tears  and  sobs,  and  frantic 
strugglings  with  imaginary  dtcmons,  and  paroxysms  of  reli- 
gious despair,  were  the  texture  of  his  life,  and  the  dread  ol 
spiritual  enemies,  and  of  that  death  wliich  his  superstitiou 
had  rendered  so  terrible,  embittered  every  hour  of  his  exist- 
ence.^     The   solace  of  intellectual   occuijations   was  raroly 

'  Palliidius,  Ilisf.  Lam.  lxx\n.  *  We  have  a  striking  illuslra- 

•  Rufinus, //w^  iVw«'7(.  xxxiii.     tion  of  this  in  St.  Arsonius.     Hit 


ruOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  115 

resorted  to.  '  The  duty/  said  St.  Jerome, '  of  a  monk  is  not  to 
teach,  but  to  weep.'  *  A  cultivated  and  disciplined  mind  was 
the  least  subject  to  those  hallucinations,  which  were  regarded 
as  the  highest  evidence  of  Divine  favour ;  ^  and  although 
in  an  age  when  the  passion  for  asceticism  was  general,  many 
scholars  became  ascetics,  the  gi-eat  majority  of  the  early  monks 
appear  to  have  been  men  who  were  not  only  absolutely 
ignorant  themselves,  but  who  also  looked  upon  learning  with 
positive  disfavour.  St.  Antony,  the  true  founder  of  mona- 
chism,  refused  when  a  boy  to  learn  letters,  because  it  would 
bring  him  into  too  gi'eat  intercoxrrse  with  other  boys.^  rAt  a 
time  when  St.  Jerome  had  siiflfered  himself  to  feel  a  deep  ad- 
miration for  the  genius  of  Cicero,  he  was,  as  he  himself  tells 
us,  borne  in  the  night  before  the  tribunal  of  Christ,  accused 
of  being  rather  a  Ciceronian  than  a  Christian,  and  severely 
flagellated  by  the  angels.^  This  saint,  however,  jifterwards 
modified  lais  opinions  about  the  Pagan  writings,  and  he  was 


eyelashes  are  said  to  have  fallen  disquisition  on  tlie  -wickedness  of 

off    through    continual     weeping,  laughing,  and  he  observes  that  this 

and  he  had  always,  when  at  work,  was  the  one  bodilj'  affection  which 

to  put  a   cloth  on  his  breast  to  Christ    does    not    seem    to    have 

receive  his  tears.     As  he  felt  his  known.     Mr.  Buckle  has  collected 

death  approaching,  his  terror  rose  a  series  of  passages  to  precisely  the 

to  the  point  of  agony.     The  monks  same  effect  from  the  writings  of 

who  were  about  him  said,  '  "  Quid  the  Scotch  divines.  (HL^t.  of  CivUi- 

fles,  pater?  numquid  ettu  times?"  sution,  vol.  ii.  pp.  380-386.) 
lUe  respondit,  "Inveritate  timeo  ' 'JMonachnsautemnondoctoris 

et  iste  timor  qui  nunc  mecum  est,  habet  sed  plangent  is   officium.' — 

semper  in  me  fuit,  ex  quo  factus  Cvntr.  Vigilant,  xv. 
sum    monachus.  "  ' — Verba  Senio-  ^  As  TiUemont  puts  it:  'Use 

mm,  Prol.  §  1G3.  It  was   said  of  trouva  tres-pcu   de    saints  en  qui 

St.  Abraham  that  no  day  passed  Dieu  ait  joint  les  talens  exteiieurs 

after   his   conversion  without  his  de  I'eloquence  et  de  la  science  avec 

shedding    tears.     (^Vit.    Patrum.)  la  grilce  de  la  prophetie    et   des 

St.    John    the   dwarf  once   saw  a  miracles.     Ce  sont  des  dons  que  sa 

monk   laughing    immoderately   at  Providence     a     presque    toujoitrs 

dinner,  and  was  so  horrified  that  se pares.'— il/tv/(.  IlUt.  cedes,  tojne 

he  at  once  began  to  cry.     (Tille-  iv.  p.  315 

mont,  Mem.  de  I'Hist.  eccUs.  tome  '  .St.  Athanasius,  Vit.  Anton. 

X.  p.  430.)      St.  Basil  {Bcgulee,  in-  *  Ep.  xxii.    lie  says  his  shoul- 

'*rr(ig.  xvii.)  gives  a  remarkable  ders  were  bruise<l  when  he  awoke 


Lie  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

compelled  to  defend  himself  at  length  against  his  more  jealous 
brethren,  who  accused  him  of  defiling  his  writings  with  quo- 
tations from  Pagan  authors,  of  employing  some  monks  in 
copying  Cicero,  and  of  explaining  Vii-gil  to  some  children  at 
Bethlehem.  •  Of  one  monk  it  is  related  that,  being  especially 
famous  as  a  linguist,  he  made  it  his  penance  to  remain  per 
fectly  silent  for  thii-ty  years  ;2  of  another,  that  having 
discovered  a  few  books  in  the  cell  of  a  brother  hermit,  he 
reproached  the  student  with  having  thus  defrauded  of  their 
property  the  widow  and  the  or|ihan ;  ^  of  others,  that  their 
only  books  were  copies  of  the  Kew  Testament,  which  they 
sold  to  relieve  the  poor.^ 
/-  With  such  men,  living  such  a  life,  visions  and  miracles 
were  necessarily  habitual.  All  the  elements  of  hallucination 
were  there.  Ignorant  and  superstitious,  believing  as  a  matter 
of  religious  conviction  that  countless  dsemons  filled  the  air, 
attributing  every  fluctuation  of  his  temperament,  and  every 
exceptional  phenomenon  in  suiTOunding  nature,  to  spiritual 
agency ;  delirious,  too,  from  solitude  and  long  continued  aus- 
terities, the  hermit  soon  mistook  for  palpable  realities  the 
phantoms  of  his  brain.  In  the  ghastly  gloom  of  the  sepul- 
chi-e,  where,  amid  mouldering  corpses,  he  took  up  his  abode ; 
in  the  long  hours  of  the  night  of  penance,  when  the  desert 
wind  sobbed  around  his  lonely  cell,  and  the  cries  of  wild 

•E/i.  Ixx. ;  Adv.  Rufaium,  lib.  psalm.     Having  learnt  tho  single 

i.  ch.  XXX.     JIo  there  speaks  of  his  verse,   '  I  t-.\id  I  -will  f  ake  heed  to 

vision  as  a  mere  dream,  not  l-iiid-  my  ways,  tliat  I  offend  not  with  my 

ing.      He    elsewhere    (Ep.    cxxv.)  tongue,' he  went  away,  saying  that 

si)€alcs  very  sensibly  of  the  advaii-  was  enough  if  it  were  practically 

tuge  of  hermits  occupying  them-  acquired.  When  asked,  six  montlis, 

seU-os,  and  says  he  learnt  Hebrew  and  again  many  years,  after,  why 

to  keep  away  unholy  thoughts.  he  did  not  come  to  loarn  anothoi 

2  Sozomen,    vi.     28;    Jlufinus,  verse,   ho  answered    tliat   he    had 

Hist.    Monitch.    ch.   vi.      Socrates  never    been  able  truly  to  maslei 

tells  rather  a  touching  story  of  one  this.     (//.£.  iv.  23.) 

of  these   illiterate   saints,    named  »  Tillemont,  x.  p.  61. 

Pambofl.     Being  unable  to  read,  he  ■*  Hiid.  viii.  490  ;  Sop.rate«,  E 

came  to  some  one  to  be  taught  a  E.  iv.  23. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  117 

beasts  were  borne  upon  his  ear,  'isible  forms  of  lust  or  terror 
appeared  to  haunt  him,  and  strange  dramas  were  enacted  bji 
those  who  were  contending  for  his  soul.  An  imagination 
strained  to  the  utmost  limit,  acting  upon  a  frame  attenuatec' 
and  diseased  by  macerations,  produced  bewildering  psycho 
logical  phenomena,  paroxysms  of  conflicting  passions,  sudden 
alternations  of  joy  and  anguish,  which  he  regarded  as  mani- 
festly supernatural.  Sometimes,  in  the  vei-y  ecstasy  of  his 
devotion,  the  memory  of  old  scenes  would  crowd  upon  his 
mind.  The  shady  groves  and  soft  voluptuous  gardens  of  his 
native  city  would  arise,  and,  kneeling  alone  upon  the  burning 
sand,  he  seemed  to  see  around  him  the  fair  groups  of  dancing- 
girls,  on  v/hose  warm,  undulating  limbs  and  wanton  smiles 
his  youthful  eyes  had  too  fondly  dwelt.  Sometimes  his  temp- 
tation sprang  from  remembered  sounds.  The  sweet,  licen- 
tious songs  of  other  days  came  floating  on  his  ear,  and  his 
heart  was  thrilled  with  the  passions  of  the  past.  And  then 
the  scene  would  change.  As  his  lips  were  murmuring  the 
psalter,  his  imagination,  fired  peihaps  by  the  music  of  some 
jnartial  psalm,  dejjicted  the  crowded  amphitheatre.  The 
throng  and  passion  and  mingled  cries  of  eager  thousands  were 
present  to  his  mind,  and  the  fieice  joy  of  the  gladiators 
passed  through  the  tumult  of  his  dream.'  The  simplest  in- 
cident came  at  last  to  suggest  diabolical  influence.  An  old 
hermit,  weary  and  fainting  upon  his  journey,  once  thought 
how  refreshing  would  be  a  draught  of  the  honey  of  wild  bees 


'  I  have  comliined  in  this  passage  songs  she   had  sung  whrn  young, 

incidents  from  three  distinct,  lives,  which    continually     haunted     her 

St.  Jerome,  in  a  very  famoiis  and  mind.     8t.   Hilarion  (see  his  Life 

very  beautiful  passage  of  liis  hotter  by  St.  Jerome)  thought  he  saw  « 

to  Eustochium  {Ep.  xxii.)  describes  ghidiatorial  -sjiow  while  he  was  re- 

the  manner  in  which  the  forms  of  peating  the  psalms.     The  mannef 

dancing-girls  appeared  to  surround  in  which  the  different  visions  faded 

bim  as  he  knelt  upon  the  desert  into    one   another  like    dissolving 

sands.     St.  Mary  of  Egypt  {Vitce  views  is  repeatedly  described  in  tha 

Tatrum,   ch.   xi.\.)  was  especially  biographies, 
tortured  by  the  lecollcction  of  the 

40 


118  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

of  tlie  desert.  At  that  moment  his  eye  fell  upon  a  rock  on 
which  they  had  built  a  hive.  He  passed  on  with  a  shudder  and 
an  exorcism,  for  he  believed  it  to  be  a  temptation  of  the 
devil.'  But  most  terrible  of  all  were  the  struggles  of  young, 
and  ardent  men,  through  whose  veins  the  hot  blood  of  pas- 
sion continually  flowed,  physically  incapable  of  a  life  of 
celibacy,  and  with  all  that  proneness  to  hallucination  which 
a  Douthem  sun  engenders,  who  were  borne  on  the  wave  of 
enthusiasm  to  the  desert  life.  ]n  the  arms  of  Syrian  or 
African  brides,  whose  soft  eyes  answered  love  with  love, 
they  might  have  sunk  to  rest,  but  in  the  lonely  wilderness 
no  peace  could  ever  visit  their  souls.  The  Lives  of  the 
Saints  paint  with  an  appalling  vividness  the  agonies  of  their 
struggle.  Multiplying  with  frantic  energy  the  macerations 
of  the  body,  beating  their  breasts  with  anguish,  the  tears  for 
ever  streaming  from  their  eyes,  imagining  themselves  con- 
tinually haunted  by  ever-changing  forms  of  deadly  beauty, 
which  acquired  a  gi-eater  vividness  from  the  veiy  passion 
with  which  they  resisted  them,  their  struggles  not  unfre- 
quently  ended  in  insanity  and  in  suicide.  It  is  related  that 
when  St.  Pachomius  and  St.  Pala^mon  were  conversing  to- 
gether in  the  desert,  a  young  monk,  with  his  countenance 
distracted  with  madness,  rushed  into  their  presence,  and, 
in  a  voice  broken  with  convulsive  sobs,  poured  out  his  tale 
of  sorrows.  A  woman,  he  said,  had  entered  his  cell,  had 
seduced  him  by  her  artifices,  and  then  vanished  miraculously 
in  the  air,  leaving  him  half  dead  upon  the  ground ; — and 
then  with  a  wild  shriek  the  monk  broke  away  from  the 
saintly  listeners.  Impelled,  as  they  imagined,  by  an  evil 
spirit,  he  rushed  across  the  deseit,  till  he  arrived  at  the  next 
village,  and  there,  leaping  into  the  open  furnace  of  the  ])ub!ic 
baths,  he  perished  in  the  flames."^     Strange  stories  were  told 


'  Riiiinua,  Hist.  Monaek.,  ch.xi.  ^  Life  of  St.   I'jicliomius  [I'li 

uliis  bairit  was  St  Helenus.  Palritm),  cap.  i.\. 


FROM    CONSTANTI>E    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  119 

tin'-ng  the  monks  of  revulsions  of  passion  even  in  the  most 
advanced.     Of  one  monk  especially,  who  had  long  been  re- 
garded as  a  pattern  of  asceticism,  but  who  had  suffered  him- 
Belf  to  fall  into  that  self-complacency  which  was  very  common 
among  the  anchorites,  it  was  told  that  one  evening  a  fainting 
woman  appeared  at  the  door  of  his  cell,  and  implored  him  to 
give  her  shelter,  and  not  permit  her  to  be  devoured  by  the  wild 
beasts.     In  au  evil  hour  he  yielded  to  her  prayer.     With  all 
the  aspect  of  profound  reverence  she  won  his  regards,  and  at 
last  ventured  to  lay  her  hand  upon  him.     But  that  touch 
convulsed   his   frame.      Passions  long  slumbering  and  for- 
gotten rushed  with  impetuous  fury  through  his  veins.     In 
a  paroxysm  of  fierce  love,  he  sought  to  clasp  the  woman  to 
his  heart,  but  she  vanished  from  his  sight,  and  a  chorus  of 
daemons,  with  peals  of  laughter,  exulted  over  his  fall.     The 
sequel  of  the  story,  as  it  is  told  by  the  monkish  writer,  is,  I 
think,  of  a  very  high  order  of  artistic  merit.     The  fallen  her- 
mit did  not  seek,  as  might  have  been  expected,  by  penance 
and  prayers  to  renew  his  piuity.     That  moment  of  passion 
and  of  shame  had  revealed  in  Mm  a  new  nature,  and  severed 
him  irrevocably  from  the  hopes  and  feelings  of  the  ascetic 
life.     The  fair  form  that  had  arisen  upon  his  dream,  though 
he  knew  it  to  be  a  deception  luring  him  to  destniction,  still 
governed  liis  heart.     He  fled  from  the  desert,  plunged  anew 
into  the  world,  avoided  all  intercoui-se  with  the  monks,  and 
followed  the  light  of  that  ideal  beauty  even  into  the  jaws 
of  hell.i  

'  Rufinus,  Hist.  Monarh.  cap.  i.  quadam  illusiono  prosfernobant  se 

This  story  was  told  to  Rufinus  by  ante   me   dicontcs,  Indiilfre  nobis, 

St.   John  the    hermit.     The    same  abbas,   quia  biborom   til)i  incussi- 

saint  described  his  own  visions  very  mus  tota  nocte.' — Ibid.     St.  Bi-ne- 

frraphically.     '  Deaique   etiam  me  diet  in  the  desert  is  said  to  have 

frequenter dapmones  noctibus  sedu»c-  been  tortured  by  the  recollection  of 

erunt,  et  neque  orare  neque  requi-  a  be^mtifnl  girl  he  had  once  seen, 

eecere     perraiserunt,      phantasias  and  only  regained  his  composure 

;juasdam  per  noctem  totam  sensi-  by   rolling   in  thorns.     (St.  Greg, 

bus   meis   et    cogitationes    sugge-  Dial.  ii.  2.) 
rentes.      Mane    vero    veliit    cum 


120  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Anecdotes    of    this  kind,  circulated  among  the  monks, 
contributed  to  heighten  the  feelings   of  terror  with  which 
thej  regarded  all  communication  with  the  other  sex.     But 
to  avoid  such  communication  was  sometimes  very  difficult,. 
Few  things  are  more  striking,  in  the  early  historians  of  the 
movement  we  are  consideriiig,  than  the  manner  in  which 
narratives  of  the  deepest  tragical  interest  alternate  with  ex- 
tremely whimsical  accounts  of  the  profound  admii-ation  with 
wliich  the  female  devotees  regarded   the  most  austere  an- 
chorites, and  the  unwearied  perseverance  with  which  they 
endeavoured  to  force  themselves  upon  their  notice.     Some 
women  seem  in  this  respect  to  have  been  peculiarly  fortu- 
nate.    St.   Melania,  who    devoted  a  gi-eat   portion   of   her 
fortune  to  the  monks,  accompanied  by  the  historian  Bufinus, 
made,  near  the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  a  long  pilgi'image 
through  the  Syrian  and  Egy[)tian  hermitages.'      But  with 
many  of  the  hermits  it  was  a  rule  never  to  look  upon  the 
face  of  any  woman,   and    the   number  of  years  they  had 
escaped  this  contamination  was  commonly  stated  as  a  con- 
spicuous proof  of  their  excellence.      St.   Basil  would   only 
speak  to  a  woman  under  extreme  necessity.'^      St.  John  of 
Lycopolis  had  not  seen  a  woman  for  -forty-eight  years.^     A 
tribune  was  sent  by  his  wife  on  a  pilgrimage  to  St.  John 
the  hermit  to  implore  him  to  allow  her  to  visit  him,  her 
desire  being  so  intense   that  she  would    probably,   in   the 
opinion  of  her  husband,  die  if  it  were  ungi-atified.     At  last 
the  hermit  told  his  suppliant  that   he  would   that   night 
visit  his  wife  when  she  was  in   bed  in   her   house.       The 
tribune   brought   this   strange   message    to    his    wife,    who 


'  Sho  lived  also  for  some  time  weyde,  lib.  ii. 
in  a  convent  at  Jerusalem,  which  *  iSee  his  Life  in  Tillemoiit. 

Fho  had   founded      Melania  (who  'Ibid.    x.    p.    14.     A    certiin 

was  one  of  St.   Jerome's  friends)  Didymus  lived  entirely  alone  till 

was  a  lady  of  rank  and  fortune,  his  death,  which  took  place  when, 

who  devoted  her  property  to   the  he   was   ninety.      (Socrates,    H.E, 

monks.    See  her  journey  in  Ros-  iv.  23.) 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  121 

that  niglit  saw  the  hermit  in  a  di^eam.'     A  young  lloman 
girl  made  a  pilgrimage  from  Italy  to  Alexandria,  to  look 
upon   the   face   and   obtain   the   prayers   of    St.  Arsenius, 
into  whose  presence  she  forced  herself.      Quailing  beneath 
his   rebuffs,  she  flung  hei-self    at  his   feet,   imploring   him 
with  tears  to  grant  her  only  request  —  to   remember   her, 
and  to  pray  for  her.     *  Remember  you  !'  cried  the  indignant 
saint ;  '  it  shall  be  the  prayer  of  my  life  that  I  may  forget 
you.'     The  poor  gii-1  sought  consolation  from  the  Archbishop 
of    Alexandria,  who    comforted  her  by  assuidng  her    tbat, 
though  she  belonged  to  the  sex  by  which  daemons  commonly 
tempt  saints,  he  doubted  not  the  hermit  would  pray  for  her 
soul,  though  he  would  try  to  forget  her  face.^     Sometimes 
this  female  enthusiasm  took  another  and  a  more  subtle  form, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion  women  were  known  to  attire 
themselves  as  men,  and  to  pass  their  lives  undisturbed  as 
anchorites.     Among  others,  St.  Pelagia,  who  had  been  the 
most  beautiful,  and  one  of  the  most  dangerously  seductive 
actresses  of  Antioch,  having  been  somewhat  strangely  con- 
verted, was  appointed  by  the  bishops  to  live  in  penance  with 
an  elderly  virgin  of  irreproachable  piety  ;  but,  impelled,  we 
are  told,  by  her  desire  for  a  more  austere  life,  she  fled  from 
her  companion,  assumed  a  male  attii-e,  took  refuge  among  the 
monks  on  the  Mount  of  OKves,  and,  with  something  of  the 
skill  of  her  old  profession,  supported  her  feigned  character  so 
consistently  that  she  acquired  great  renown,  and  it  was  only 
(it  is  said)  after  her  death  that  the  saints  discovered  who  had 
been  living  among  them.^ 


'  Rufinus,    HUt.   Monachorum,  riia,  or  the  pearl.     'II  aniva  un 

cr.p.  i.  jour  que  clivers  ^vesques,  appeloz 

*  Verba  Seniorum,  §  65.  par  cclui  d'Antioehe  pour  quflques 

*  Pelagia  was  very  pretty,  and,  affaires,  estant  ensemble  a  la  porta 
according  to  her  own  account,  '  her  de  I'eglise  de  S.-Julien,  Pt^Iagie 
Bins  were  heavier  than  the  sand.'  passa  devant  eux  dans  tout  I'dclat 
The  people  of  Antioch,  who  were  des  pompes  du  diable,  n'ayant  paj 
rery  fond  of  lier,  called  her  Marga-  Beulement  une  coeffe  snr  sa  teste  ni 


122  iriSTOEY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

The  foregoing  anecdotes  and  observations  will,  I  boj)e, 
have  given  a  sufficiently  clear  idea  of  the  general  nature  oi 
the  monastic  life  in  its  earliest  phase,  and  also  of  the  writings 
it  produced.  We  may  now  proceed  to  examine  the  ways  in 
which  this  mode  of  life  affected  both  the  ideal  type  and  tie 
realised  condition  of  Christian  morals.  And  in  the  first 
place,  it  is  manifest  that  the  proportion  of  virtues  was 
altered.  If  an  impartial  person  were  to  glance  over  the 
ethics  of  the  New  Testament,  and  were  asked  what  was  the 
central  and  distinctive  virtue  to  which  the  sacred  writers 
most  continually  referred,  he  would  doubtless  answer  that  it 
was  that  which  is  described  as  love,  charity,  or  philanthropy. 
If  he  were  to  apply  a  similar  scrutiny  to  the  writings  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  he  would  answer  that  the  cardinal 
virtue  of  the  religious  type  was  not  love,  but  chastity.  And 
this  chastity,  which  was  regarded  as  the  ideal  state,  was  not 
the  purity  of  an  undefiled  marriage.  It  was  the  absolute 
suppression  of  the  whole  sensual  side  of  our  nature.  The 
chief  form  of  virtue,  the  central  conception  of  the  saintly 
life,  was  a  perpetual  struggle  against  all  carnal  impulses,  by 
men  who  altogether  refused  the  compromise  of  mamage. 
From  this  fact,  if  I  mistake  not,  some  interesting  and  impor- 
tant consequences  may  be  deduced. 

In  the  fiist  place,  religion  gradually  assumed  a  very 
sombre  hue.  The  business  of  the  saint  was  to  eradicate  a 
natural  appetite,  to  attain  a  condition  which  was  emphatic- 
ally abnormal.     The  depravity  of  human  nature,  especially 


un    moticlioir   sur   ses  dpauirs,  oe  mediately   began    crying   a   great 

qu'on  remarquiiCDmmo  locomlile  do  dual,  and   reas.surcd  his  brethren, 

sun  impudence.     Tons  les  evesqucs  and  a  sermon  which  he  preached 

baiseferent   les  yeux  en  gemissant  led  to  tiio  conversion  of  the  actress. 

pour  ne  pas  voir ce  dangoreux  objet  (Tillemont,  Mem.  d'Uist. cedes,  tomo 

de  pich^,   hors  Nonne,    tres-saint  xii.  pp.  378-380.      See,    too,    on 

^vesque  d'H^liople,  qui  la  regardii  women. 'under  pretence  of  religion,' 

iivec  une  attention  qui  fit  peine  aux  attiring  tlienisulvus  as  men,  Uuzo 

autres.'     U'.'wever,  this  bishop  im-  men,  iii.  14.) 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  123 

tte  essential  evil  of  the  body,  was  felt  witli  a  degiee  of 
intensity  that  could  never  have  been  attained  by  moralLsts 
who  wei-e  occupied  mainly  with  transient  or  exceptional 
vices,  such  as  envy,  anger,  or  cruelty.  And  in  addition  to 
the  extreme  inveteracy  of  the  appetite  which  it  was  desii-e<I 
to  ei-adicate,  it  should  be  remembered  that  a  somewhat  luxu- 
rious and  indulgent  life,  even  when  that  indulgence  is  not 
itself  distinctly  evd,  even  when  it  has  a  tendency  to  mollify 
the  character,  has  naturally  the  effect  of  strengthening  the 
animal  passions,  and  is  therefore  directly  opposed  to  the 
ascetic  ideal.  The  consequence  of  this  was  first  of  all  a 
very  deep  sense  of  the  habitual  and  innate  depravity  of 
human  nature ;  and,  in  the  next  place,  a  very  strong  associa- 
tion of  the  idea  of  pleasm-e  with  that  of  vice.  All  thi-^ 
necessarily  flowed  from  the  supreme  value  placed  upon  vir- 
ginity. The  tone  of  calm  and  joyousness  that  characterise^^ 
Greek  philosophy,  the  almost  complete  absence  of  all  sense 
of  struggle  and  innate  sin  that  it  displays,  is  probably  in  a 
very  large  degree  to  be  a.scribed  to  the  fact  that,  in  the  de- 
partment of  morals  we  are  consideiing,  Greek  moralists  made 
no  serious  efforts  to  improve  our  natiu-e,  and  Greek  public 
opinion  acquiesced,  without  scanda\  in  an  almost  boundless 
indulgence  of  illicit  pleasures.^ 

But  while  the  great  prominence  at  this  time  given  to  the 
conflicts  of  the  ascetic  life  threw  a  dark  shade  upon  the 
popular  estimate  of  human  nature,  it  contributed,  I  think, 
very  lai-gely  to  sustain  and  deepen  that  strong  conviction  of 
the  freedom  of  the  human  will  which  the  Catholic  Church 
has  alwaN's  so  strenuously  upheld  ;  for  there  is,  probably,  no 
ether  form  of  moral  conflict  in  which  men  are  so  habitually 
and  so  keenly  sensible  of  that  distinction  between  our  will 
nnd  oux  desires,  upon  the  reiility  of  which  all  moi-al  freedom 
ultimately  depends.  It  had  also,  I  imagine,  another  result, 
which  it  is  difficult  to  describe  with  the  same  precision. 
Wliat  may  be  called  a  strong  animal  natui-e — a  natui-e,  that 


124  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

IS,  IB  which  the  passions  are  in  vigorous,  and  at  the  same 
time  healthy,  action— is  that  in  which  we  should  most  natu- 
rally expect  to  find  several  moral  qualities.     Good  humour, 
fr-ankness,  generosity,  active  courage,  sanguine  energy,  buoy- 
ancy of  temper,  are  the  usual   and  appropriate  accompani- 
ments of  a  vigorous  animal  temperament,  and  they  are  much 
more  rarely  found   either  in    natures   that  are   essentially 
feeble  and  effeminate,  or  in  natures  which  have  been  artifi- 
cially emasculated  by  penances,  distorted  from  their  original 
tendency,  and  habitually  held  under  severe  control.  °The 
ideal  type  of  Catholicism  being,  on  account  of  the  supreme 
value  placed  upon  virginity,  of  the  latter  kind,  the  qualities 
I    have   mentioned   have  always  ranked    very  low  in  the 
GathoHc  conceptions  of  excellence,  and  the  steady  tendency 
of  Protestant  and  industrial  civilisation  has  been  to  elevate 
them. 

I  do  not  know  whether  the  reader  will   regard   these 
speculations— which  I  advance  with  some  difiidence— as  far- 
fetched and  fanciful.     Our  knowledge  of  the  physical  ante- 
cedents of  difterent  moral   qualities  is  so  scanty  that  it  is 
difficult  to  si)eak  on  these  matters  with  much  confidence ; 
but  few  persons,  I  think,  can  have  f^xiled  to  observe  that  the 
])hysical  temperaments  I  have  described  differ  not  simply  in 
the  one  great  fact  of  the  intensity  of  the  animal  passions,  but 
also  in  the  aptitude  of  eacli  to  produce  a  distinct  moral  type, 
or,  in  other  words,  in    the  harmony  of  each  with  several 
(luahties,  both  good  and  evil.     A  doctrine,  therefore,  which 
connects  one  of  these  two  temperaments  indissolubly  with  the 
moral  ideal,  affects  the  appreciation  of  a  large  number  of 
moral  qualities.     But  whjitevcr  may  be  thought  of  the  moral 
lesulta  .springing  fi-oiii  the  physical  temperament  wliich  asco- 
ficism   produced,  there  can  be  little  controversy  as  to  the 
effects  spiinging  fx-om  the  condition  of  life  which  it  enjoined. 
Severance  from  the  interests  and  affections  of  all  around  him 
WHS  the  chief  oljject  of  the  anchorite,  and  the  first  couse- 


mOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  125 

quence  of  the  prominence  of  asceticism  was  a  profound  dis- 
credit tlu'own  upon  the  domestic  virtues. 

The   extent  to   which   this   discredit   was   carried,    the 
intense  hardness  of  heart  and  ingratitude  manifested  by  the 
saints  towards  those  who  were  bound  to  them  by  the  closest 
of  earthly  ties,  is  known  to  few  who  have  not  studied  the 
original  literature  on  the  subject.    These  things  are  commonly 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  those  modern  sentimentalists  who 
delight  in  idealising  the  devotees  of  the  past.     To  break  hj 
his  insrratitude  the  heart  of  the  mother  who  had  borne  him, 
to  persuade  the  wife  who  adored  him  that  it  was  her  duty  to 
separate  from  him  for  ever,  to  abandon  his  children,  uncaied 
for  and  beggai-s,  to  the  mercies  of  the  woi-ld,  was  regarded  by 
the  true  hermit  as  the  most  acceptable  offering  he  could  make 
to  his  God.     His  business  was  to  save  his  own  soul.     The 
serenity  of  his  devotion  would  be  impaii-ed  by  the  discharge 
of  the  simplest  duties   to  his   family.     Evagrius,   when   a 
hermit  in  the  desert,  received,  after  a  long  interval,  lettei-a 
from  his  father  and  mother.     He  could   not  bear  that  the 
equable  tenor  of  his  thoughts  should  be   distiu'bed  by  the 
recollection  of  those  who  loved  him,  so  he  cast  the  letters 
unread  into  the  lire. '     A  man  named  Mutius,  accom}>anied 
by  his  only  child,   a   little  boy  of  eight  years  old,  aban- 
doned   his    possessions    and    demanded    admission    into   a 
monastery.     The  monks  i-eceived  him,  but  they  proceeded  to 
discipline  his  heart.     *  He  had  already  forgotten  that  he  was 
rich ;  he  must  next  be  taught  to  forget  that  he  was  a  father.' ' 

'  Tillemont,  tome   x.    pp.    376,  saint  named  Boniface  struck  dead 

377-   Apart  from  family  allections,  a  man  who  went  about  -with  an  ape 

there  are    some   curious  instances  and  a  cyniLal,  because  he  had  (ap- 

recorded   of    the   anxiety    of    the  parcntly  quite  unintt-ntionally)  dis- 

saints  to  avoid   distractions.    One  turbed   him   at  liis    prayers.     (St. 

monk  used  to  cover  his  face  when  Greg.  D/af.  i.  9.) 
he  went  into   liis  garden,  lest  the  ^  '  Quomadmodum  se  jam  diti- 

sight  of  the  trees   should  disturb  tem    non    esse   sciebat,    ita   etiam 

bis   mind.    {Verb.  Seniorum.)     St.  patrem  se  esse  neseii-ot.' — Cassian, 

Arsenius  could  not  bear  the  rust-  De  Caiwbiurttm  Instituds,  iv.  27. 
ling   of  the   reeds  (ibid.);    and  a 


126  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MOR\LS. 

His  little  child  was  separated  from  him,  clothed  in  dii-ty  i-ags, 
subjected  to  every  form  of  gross  and  wanton  hardship,  beaten, 
spurned,  and  ill  treated.  Day  after  day  the  father  was  com- 
pelled to  look  upon  his  boy  wasting  away  with  son-ow,  his 
once  happy  countenance  for  ever  stained  with  tears,  distorted 
by  sobs  of  anguish.  But  yet,  says  the  admiring  biographer, 
'  though  he  saw  this  day  by  day,  such  was  his  love  for  Christ, 
and  for  the  virtue  of  obedience,  that  the  father's  heart  was 
rigid  and  unmoved.  He  thought  little  of  the  tears  of  his 
child.  He  was  anxious  only  for  his  own  humility  and 
perfection  in  vii-tue.' '  At  last  the  abbot  told  him  to  take 
his  child  and  throw  it  into  the  river.  He  proceeded,  without 
a  murmur  or  apparent  pang,  to  obey,  and  it  was  only  at  the 
last  moment  that  the  monks  interposed,  and  on  the  very 
brink  of  the  river  saved  the  child.  Mutins  afterwards  I'ose 
to  a  liigh  position  among  the  ascetics,  and  was  justly  regarded 
as  having  displayed  in  gi-eat  perfection  the  temper  of  a  saint. '^ 
An  inhabitant  of  Thebes  once  came  to  the  abbot  Sisoes,  and 
asked  to  be  made  a  monk.  The  abbot  asked  if  he  had  any  one 
belonging  to  him.  He  answered,  '  A  son.'  '  Take  your  son,' 
rejoined  the  old  man,  '  and  throw  him  into  the  liver,  and  then 
you  may  become  a  monk.'  The  father  hastened  to  fulfil  the 
command,  and  the  deed  was  almost  consummated  when  a 
messenger  sent  by  Sisoes  revoked  the  order. ^ 

Sometimes  the  same  les.son  was  taught  und(;r  the  form  of 
a  miracle.  A  man  had  once  deserted  his  three  children  to 
Ijecome  a  monk.  Three  years  after,  he  determined  to  bring 
them  into  the  monastery,  but,  on  i-eturning  to  his  home, 
found  that  the  two  eldest  had  died  daring  his  absence.  He 
cnme  to  his  abbot,  bearing  in  his  arms  his  yoimgest  child, 

'  '  Cumque  taliter  infans    Bub  cogitans  de   lacrymis  ejus,  sed  de 

ooulis  ejus  per  dies    einsulos  ago-  propria   Imniilitate   ac  porfectioue 

retur,      pro     (imoro     nihiloiniiius  sullicitus.' — Ibid. 
Christi    ft  obedientirp    virtute,  ri-  *  Ibid. 

gida  semper  at  que  inimobiliapatria  *  EoUandistS;    July    6;      Verlik 

viscera  pernmnserunt .  .   .   .  parura  Seniorian,  x\v. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  127 

ivLo  was  still  little  more  than  an  infant.  The  abbot  turned 
CO  him  and  said,  '  Do  you  love  this  child  1 '  The  father 
answered,  *  Yes.'  Again  the  abbot  said,  '  Do  you  love  it 
dearly  1 '  The  father  answered  as  before.  '  Then  take  the 
child,'  said  the  abbot,  'and  throw  it  into  the  fii-e  upon  yond(  r 
heai-th.'  The  father  did  as  he  was  commanded,  and  the  child 
remained  unharmed  amid  the  flames.'  But  it  was  especially 
in  their  dealings  with  their  female  relations  that  this  aspect 
of  the  monastic  character  was  vividly  displayed.  In  this 
case  the  motive  was  not  simply  to  mortify  family  affections — 
it  was  also  to  guard  against  the  possible  danger  resulting 
from  the  presence  of  a  woman.  The  fine  flower  of  that 
saintly  purity  might  have  been  disturbed  by  the  sight  of  a 
mother's  or  a  sister's  face.  The  ideal  of  one  age  appears 
sometimes  too  gi-otesque  for  the  caricature  of  another ;  and  it 
is  curious  to  observe  how  pale  and  weak  is  the  picture 
wliich  Molifere  drew  of  the  affected  prudery  of  Tartuffe,^ 
when  compared  with  the  narratives  that  are  gi-avely  pro- 
pounded in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints.  When  the  abbot  Sisoes 
had  become  a  very  old,  feeble,  and  decrepit  man,  his  disciples 
exliorted  him  to  leave  the  desert  for  an  inhabited  coimtry. 
Sisoes  seemed  to  yield;  but  he  stipulated,  as  a  necessary 
condition,  that  in  his  new  abode  he  should  never  be  com- 
pelled to  encoimter  the  peril  and  pei-turbation  of  looking  on 
a  woman's  face.  To  such  a  nature,  of  course,  the  desert  alone 
was  suitable,  and  the  old  man  was  suffered  to  die  in  peace. •» 
A  monk  was  once  travelling  with  his  mother — in  itself  a 


'  Verba  Smiorum,  xiv.  •                  Tartuffe. 

2  Tartuffe    {tiraut    un    mou-  Couvruz  co  sein   que  je  ne 

thoir  de  sa  pocke).  saurois  voir ; 

Par  de  paruils  objets  des  Ames  sont 

'Ah,  mon  Dieu,  je  vous  prie,  blesseos,  ^ 

Avant  que  do  parler,  prenez-nioi  ce  Et  cela   fait  venir   de    coupable« 

niouchoir.  pen.-sees.' 

-r.  Tarluffe,  Acte  iiL  scene  2. 

C!omment !  *  BoUandists,  July  6. 


128  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

oiost  imusual  circumstance — and,  having  arrived  at  a  bridge- 
less  stream,  it  became  necessaiy  for  him  to  carry  her  across. 
To  her  surpiise,  he  began  carefully  wrapping  uj)  his  hands 
in  cloths ;  and  upon  her  asking  the  reason,  he  explained  that 
he  was  alarmed  lest  he  should  be  unfortunate  enough  to 
touch  her,  and  thereby  disturb  the  equilibrium  of  his  nature.' 
The  sister  of  St.  John  of  Calama  loved  him  dearly,  and 
earnestly  implored  him  that  she  might  look  upon  his  face 
once  more  before  she  died.  On  his  persistent  refusal,  she 
declared  that  she  would  make  a  pilgrimage  to  him  in  the 
desert.  The  alarmed  and  perplexed  saint  at  last  -ATote 
to  her,  promising  to  visit  her  if  she  would  engage  to  relin- 
quish her  design.  He  went  to  her  in  disguise,  received  a 
cup  of  water  from  her  hands,  and  came  away  without  being 
discovered.  She  wrote  to  him,  reproaching  him  with  not 
having  fulfilled  his  promise.  He  answered  her  that  he 
had  indeed  visited  her,  that  '  by  the  mercy  of  Jesus 
OhrLst  he  had  not  been  recognised,'  and  that  she  must 
never  see  him  asrain  ^  The  mother  of  St.  'Theodorus  came 
armed  with  letters  from  the  bishops  to  see  her  son,  but 
he  implored  his  abbot,  St.  Pachomius,  to  permit  liim  to 
decline  the  interview ;  and,  fruding  all  her  efforts  in  vain, 
the  poor  woman  retired  into  a  convent,  together  with  her 
daughter,  who  had  made  a  similar  expedition  with  similar 
results.^  The  mother  of  St.  INIarcus  persuaded  his  abbot  to 
command  the  saint  to  go  out  to  her.  Placed  in  a  dilemma 
between  the  sin  of  disobedience  and  the  perils  of  seeing  his 
mother,  St.  Marcus  extricated  liimself  by  an  ingenious  device. 
He  went  to  his  mother  with-  his  face  disguised  and  his  eyes 


'  Verba     Scniornm,     iv.       The  milii  comiripmonitio  alianim  femi- 

poor   woman,    being    startled    and  niiruni  in  jinimo." 

perplexed  at  the  proccedinss  of  luT  '■' Tillenionl,     Mini     de    Tllist. 

Bon,  6.iid,  '  Quid  sic  operiiisti  manus  eccUs.  tomo  x.  pp.  444,  44.5. 

tuas,  fill?     Ille  autem  dixit:  Quia  *  Vit.   S.  I'achomius,  ch.  ix^. ', 

corpus  midieris  i^^nis  est,  et  ex  eo  Verba  Saiiorum. 
ipso  qno  to  contingebam  veniebat 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  129 

shut.  The  mother  did  not  recognise  her  son.  The  son  did 
not  see  his  mother.'  The  sister  of  St.  Pior  in  like  manner 
induced  the  abbot  of  that  saint  to  command  him  to  admit  her 
to  his  presence.  The  command  was  obeyed,  but  St.  Pior 
resolutely  kept  his  eyes  shut  during  the  interview.  ^  St. 
Poemen  and  his  six  brothers  had  all  deserted  their  mother  to 
cultivate  the  perfections  of  an  ascetic  life.  But  ingi-atitude 
can  seldom  quench  the  love  of  a  mother's  heart,  and  the 
old  woman,  now  bent  by  infirmities,  went  alone  into  the 
Egyptian  desert  to  see  once  more  the  childi-en  she  so  dearly 
loved.  She  caught  sight  of  them  as  they  were  about  to  leave 
their  cell  for  the  church,  but  they  immediately  ran  back  into 
the  cell,  and,  before  her  tottering  steps  could  reach  it,  one 
of  her  sons  rushed  forward  and  closed  the  door  in  her  face. 
She  remained  outside  weeping  bitterly.  St.  Pcemen  "then, 
coming  to  the  door,  but  without  opening  it,  said,  '  Why  do 
you,  who  are  already  stricken  with  age,  pour  forth  such  cries 
and  lamentations  1 '  But  she,  recognising  the  voice  of  her 
son,  answered,  '  It  is  because  I  long  to  see  you,  my  sons. 
What  harm  could  it  do  you  that  I  should  see  you  1  Ami 
not  your  mother  1  did  I  not  give  you  suck  ]  I  am  now  an  old 
and  wrinkled  woman,  and  my  heart  is  troubled  at  the  sound 
of  your  voices.'  ^     The  saintly  brothers,  however,  refused  to 

'  Verba  Senorium,  xir.  sur  eux.     Elle  les  suivit,  et  trou- 

^  Palbiflius,    Hist.   Laus.    cap.  vaut  la  porte,  elle  les  appeloit  avoc 

Ixxxvii.  des  larmes  «t  dfs  cris  capables  de 

'  BoUandists,  June  6.     I  avail  les  toucher  de  compassion 

myself    again   of   the  version   of  Pemen  s'y  leva  et  s'y  en  alia,  et 

Tillemont.    'LorsqueS  Pemende-  rentendantpleurerilluydit.tenano 

meuroit  en  Egypte  avec  ses  fr^res,  toiijours  la  porte  ferm^e,  '  Pourquoi 

leur  mere,  qui  avoit  un  extreme  a'ous    lassez-vous     inutilement     a 

desir  de  les  voir,  venoit  souvent  au  pleurer  et  crier?   N'etes-vous  p:is 

lieu  ou  ils  estoient,  sans  pouvoir  dejaassczabattueparla  vieillesse?' 

jamais  avoir cette  satisfaction.  Une  Elle  reconnut  la  voix  de  Pomen,  et 

iois  eufin  elleprit  si  bienson  temps  s'effor^ant  enoore  davantage,  elle 

qu'alle  les  reni'cntra  qui  alloient  a  e'ecria,  '  He,  mes  enfans,  c'est  que 

r^glise,  mais  des  qu'ils  la  virentils  je   voudrais   bien    vous   voir:    et 

e'en   retournercnt    en   haste   dans  quel  mal  y  a-til  quo  je  vous  voie? 

leur  cellule  et  fennerent  la  porte  Ne  suis-je  pas  votro  mire,  et  ne 


130  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

opeu  their  door.  .  They  told  theii-  mother  that  she  wouhl  see 
them  after  death  ;  and  the  biographer  says  she  at  last  went 
away  contented  with  the  prospect.  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  in 
this  as  in  other  respects,  stands  in  the  fii-st  line.  He  had 
l:)een  passionately  loved  by  his  parents,  and,  if  we  may  believe 
his  eulogist  and  biogi-apher,  he  began  his  saintly  career  by 
breaking  the  heart  of  his  father,  who  died  of  grief  at  his 
flight.  His  mother,  however,  lingered  on.  Twenty-seven 
years  after  his  disappearance,  at  a  period  when  his  austerities 
had  made  him  famous,  she  heard  for  the  first  time  where  he 
w^as,  and  hastened  to  vLsit  him.  But  all  her  labour  was  in 
vain.  No  woman  w^as  admitted  wdthin  the  precincts  of  his 
dwelling,  and  he  refused  to  permit  her  even  to  look  upon  hir. 
face.  Her  entreaties  and  tears  were  mingled  with  words  of 
bitter  and  eloquent  reproach.'  '  My  son,' she  is  represented 
as  having  said,  *  why  have  you  done  this  1  I  bore  you  in  my 
womb,  and  you  have  wrung  my  soul  with  grief.  I  gave  you 
milk  from  my  breast,  you  have  filled  my  eyes  with  tears. 
For  the  kisses  I  gave  you,  you  have*  given  me  the  anguish  of 
a  broken  heai-t ;  for  all  that  I  have  done  and  suffered  for  you, 
you  have  repaid  me  by  the  most  cruel  Wrongs.'  At  last  the 
saint  sent  a  message  to  tell  her  that  she  would  soon  see  him. 
Three  days  and  three  nights  she  had  wept  and  entreated  in 
vain,  and  now,  exhausted  with  grief  and  age  and  privation, 
she  sank  feebly  to  the  ground  and  breathed  her  last  sigh  be- 
fore that  inhospitable  door.  Then  for  the  first  time  the  saint, 
accompanied  by  his  followers,  came  out.    He  shed  some  piou.'j 


V0U8  ai-je  p.nsnonrri  <lu  laitde  mes  quent  than  my  translation.     'FiM, 

niiimmcllofe?      Je  suis   dejA  touto  quaro  hoc  focisti?     Pro  utoro  qui 

{(liuiic  (Ic  rides,  et  lorsque  je  vous  te  portavi,  satiasti   me  luctu,  pre 

ay  eiitendu,   I'exfr^me    envie    quo  laotatione  qua    te    lactavi    dcdisti 

j'ay  de   voQS    voir  m'a   tellement  mihi  lacrymas,  pro  osculo  quo  te 

imuo  que  je  euis  presque  tombie  osculat;v  sum,  dedisti  mihi  amaras 

en    detail  lance."'  —  Mcmoircs    de  corJis    angustias ;    pro   doloro    et 

''/fist,  ccclen.    tx)me   xv.  pp.   157,  laliore  quern  passv  sum,  imposuisti 

168.  mihi    ^reviss-imMs    plagas.' —  VtUi 

'  The  original  is  much  moreelo-  Simeonis  (in  Rosveyde). 


FROM    COXSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  131 

teais  over  the  corpse  of  his  murdered  mother,  and  offered  up 
a  prayer  consigning  her  soul  to  heaven.  Perhaps  it  was  but 
fancy,  perhaps  Kfe  was  not  yet  wholly  extinct,  perhaps  the 
story  is  but  the  invention  of  the  biographer  \  but  a  faint 
motion — which  appears  to  have  been  regarded  as  miraculous 
- — is  said  to  have  passed  over  her  prostrate  form.  Simeon 
once  more  commended  her  soul  to  heaven,  and  then,  amid  the 
admiring  murmurs  of  his  disciples,  the  saintly  matricide 
returned  to  his  devotions. 

The  glaring  mendacity  that  chai'acterises  the  Lives  of  the 
Catholic  Saints,  probably  to  a  greater  extent  than  any  other 
important  branch  of  existing  Literature,  makes  it  not  unj-eason- 
able  to  hope  that  many  of  the  foregoing  anecdotes  represent 
much  less  events  that  actually  took  place  than  ideal  pictures 
generated  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  chroniclers.  They  are 
not,  however,  on  that  accoiuit  the  less  siguiticant  of  the  moral 
conceptions  which  the  ascetic  peiiod  had  credited.  The  ablest 
men  in  the  Christian  community  vied  with  one  another  in 
inculcating  as  the  highest  form  of  duty  the  abandonment  of 
social  ties  and  the  mortification  of  domestic  affections.  A 
i^vf  faint  restrictions  were  indeed  occasionally  made.  Much 
— on  which  I  shall  hereafter  touch — was  written  on  the 
liberty  of  husbands  and  wives  deserting  one  another;  and 
something  was  written  on  the  cases  of  cliildren  forsaking  or 
abandoning  their  parents.  At  first,  those  who,  when  childi-en, 
were  devoted  to  the  monasteries  by  their  parents,  without 
their  own  consent,  were  permitted,  when  of  mature  age,  to 
raturn  to  the  world  ;  and  this  lil>erty  was  taken  from  them 
for  the  first  time  by  the  fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  in  a.d.  633.' 
The  Council  of  Gangra  condemned  the  heretic  Eustatliius  for 
teaching  that  children  might,  through  religious  motives,  for- 
s;ike  their  parents,  and  St.  Basil  wrote  in  the  same  strain ;  * 
but  cases  of  this  kind  of  rebellion  against  parental  authority 
v.'cr^  continuallv  recounted  with  admii-ation  in  the  Lives  of  tho 


Bingham,  A  itiquities,  book  vii.  cli.  'ii.  '  Ibid, 


132  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Saints,  applauded  by  some  of  the  leading  Fathers,  and  virt\ially 
sanctioned  by  a  law  of  Justinian,  which  deprived  parents  of 
the  power  of  either  restraining  their  children  from  entering 
monasteries,  or  di^sinheriting  them  if  they  had  done  so  without 
their  consent.'     St.  Chrysostom  relates  with  enthusiasm  the 
case  of  a  young  man  who  had  been  designed  by  his  father  for 
the  army,  and  who  was  lured  away  to  a  monastery.^     The 
eloquence  of  St.  Ambrose  is  said  to  have  been  so  seductiA^e, 
that  mothers  were  accustomed  to  shut  up  their  daughters  to 
guard  them  against  his  fascinations.^     The  position  of  afiec- 
tionate  parents  was  at  this  time  extremely  painful.      The 
touching  language  is  still  preserved,  in  which  the  mother  of 
Chrysostom — who  had  a  distinguished  part  in  the  conversion 
of  her  son — implored  him,  if  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  fly  to 
the  desert  life,  at  least  to  postpone  the  act  till  she  had  died.* 
St.  Ambrose  devoted  a  chapter  to  proving  that,  wliile  those 
are  worthy   of   commendation    who   enter   the   monasteries 
witli  the  approbation,  those  are  still  more  worthy  of  pi"ai.se 
who  do  so  against  the  wishes,  of  their  parents ;  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  show  how  small  were  the  penalties  the  latter  could 
inflict  when  compared  with  the   blessiugs  asceticism  could 
bestow.5     Even  before  the  law  of  Justinian,  the  invectives  of 
the  clergy  were  directed  against  those  who  endeavoured  to 
prevent  their  children  flying  to  the  desert.     St.  Chrysostom 
explained  to  them  that  they  would  certainly  be  damned.^    St. 
Ambrose  showed  that,  even  in  this  world,  they  might  not  be 
unpunished.     A  girl,  he  tells  us,  had  resolved  to  enter  into  a 
convent,  and  as  her  relations  were  expostidating  with  her  on 
her  intention,  one  of  tho.se  present  tried  to  move  her  by  the 
memory  of  her  dead  father,  asking  whether,  if  he  were  still 

'Bingham,    Aniiqul'ics,    book  <  Ibid.  vol.  iii.  p.  120. 

vii   chap.  3.  *  De  Virf/inibus,  i.  11. 

*  Mil  man's  E'arZy    Christianity  *  See 'M.\iman'BEarli/ Christian- 
(ed.  1867),  vol.  iii.  p.  122.  iff/,  vol.  iii.  p.  121. 

*  Ibid.  vol.  iii.  p.  163. 


FROM   COXSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  133 

alive,  he  woiild  have  suffered  her  to  remain  unmarried. 
*  Perhaps,'  she  calmly  answered,  '  it  was  for  this  very  purpose 
he  died,  that  he  should  not  throw  any  obstacle  in  my  way.' 
Her  words  were  more  than  an  answer ;  they  were  an  oi*acle. 
The  iadiscreet  questioner  almost  immediately  died,  and  the 
relations,  shocked  by  the  manifest  providence,  desisted  fi-om 
their  opposition,  and  even  implored  the  young  saint  to  accom- 
plish her  design.'  St.  Jerome  tells  with  raptiu-oiLs  enthusiasm 
of  a  little  girl,  named  Asella,  who,  when  only  twelve  years 
old,  devoted  herself  to  the  religious  life  and  refused  to  look 
on  the  face  of  any  man,  and  whose  knees,  by  constant  prayer, 
became  at  last  like  those  of  a  camel. ^  A  famous  widow, 
named  Paula,  upon  the  death  of  her  husband,  deserted  her 
family,  listened  with  '  dry  eyes '  to  her  children,  who  were 
imploring  her  to  stay,  fled  to  the  society  of  the  monks  at 
Jerusalem,  made  it  her  desire  that  '  she  misrht  die  a  be^our. 
and  leave  not  one  piece  of  money  to  her  son,'  and,  having  dis- 
sipated the  whole  of  her  fortune  in  charities,  bequeathed  to 
her  children  only  the  embarrassment  of  her  debts.^  It  was 
carefully  inculcated  that  all  money  given  or  bequeathed  to  the 
poor,  or  to  the  monks,  produced  spuitual  benefit  to  the  donors 
or  testators,  but  that  no  spiritual  benefit  spi-ang  from  money 
bestowed  upon  relations ;  and  the  more  pious  minds  recoiled 


*  De  Virginibtis,\.  \l.  tacens     fletibiis     obsecrabat.       Et 

*  Epi«t.  xxir.  timen  ilia  siccos  tendebat  ad  caelum 

*  St.  Jerome  describes  the  scene  oculos,  pietatem  in  filios  pietate  in 
at  her  departure  with  admiring  Deura  superans.  Nesciebat  ee 
eloquence.  '  Descendit  ad  portum  matrem  ut  Christ!  probaret  ancil- 
fratro,  cognatis,  aflSnibus  et  quod  \a.m.'—Ep.  cviii.  In  another  place 
majus  est  liberis  prosequentibus,  he  says  of  her :  '  Testis  est  Jesus, 
et  clementissimam  matrem  pietate  ne  unum  quidom  nummum  ab  e;i 
vincere  cupientibus.  Jam  carbasa  filiae  derelictum  sed,  ut  ante  jam 
:endebantur,  et  remorum  ductu  dixi,  derelictum  magcum  aes  alio- 
niivia  in  altum  protrahebatur.  num.' — Ibid.  And  i\gain :  '  Vis, 
Parvus  Toxotius  supplicos  manus  lector,  ejus  breviter  »r.ire  virtntes? 
tendebat  in  littore,  Euffina  jam  Omnes  suos  pjiupcn  s,  pauperior 
nubilis  ut  suas  expectaret  nupiias  ipsa  dimisit.' — Ibid. 

41 


134  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    AIORALS. 

fi'Oin  disposing  of  theii'  property  in  a  manner  that  would  nol 
redound  to  the  advantage  of  their  souls.  Sometimes  parents 
made  it  a  dying  request  to  their  children  that  they  would 
pieserve  none  of  their  property,  but  would  bestow  it  all 
luiong  the  poor.'  It  "W'as  one  of  the  most  honoui-able  inci- 
dents of  the  life  of  St.  Augustine,  that  he,  like  Aurelius, 
Bishop  of  Carthage,  lefused  to  receiA*e  legacies  or  donations 
which  unjustly  spoliated  the  relatives  of  the  benefactor.^ 
Usually,  however,  to  outrage  the  affections  of  the  nearest  and 
dearest  relations  was  not  only  regarded  as  innocent,  but  pro- 
posed as  the  higliest  virtue,  *  A  young  man,'  it  was  acutely 
said,  *  who  has  learnt  to  despise  a  mother's  grief,  will  ea6;ily 
bear  any  other  labour  that  is  imposed  upon  him.'^  St. 
Jei-ome,  when  exhorting  Heliodorus  to  desert  his  family  and 
become  a  hermit,  expatiated  with  a  fond  minuteness  on  every 
form  of  natural  affection  he  desired  him  to  violate.  *  Thougl. 
your  Httle  nephew  twine  his  arms  around  your  neck ;  though 
your  mother,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  tearing  her  robe  asun- 
der, point  to  the  breast  with  which  she  suckled  you ;  though 
your  father  fall  down  on  the  threshold  before  you,  j)ass  op 
over  your  father's  botly.  Fly  with  tearless  eyes  to  the  ban- 
ner of  the  cross.  In  this  matter  cruelty  is  the  only  piety 
.  .  .  Your  widowed  sister  may  throw  her  gentle  arms  around 
you.  .  .  .  Your  father  may  implore  you  to  wait  but  a  short 
time  to  bury  those  near  to  you,  who  will  soon  be  no  more ; 
your  weeping  mother  may  recall  your  childish  day.s,  and  may 
point  to  her  shrunken  bi-east  and  to  her  wrinkled  brow. 
Those  around  you  may  tell  you  that  all  the  household  rests 
upon  you.     Such  chains  as  these,  tlie  love  of  God  and  the 


*  Soe  Chasteil,  Ehidcs  kisioriques  from  tho  Life  of  St.  Fulqiviirns. 
t<tr  hi  Charite,'p.2^\.  The  parents  quoted  by  Dean  Milman.  'I'auile 
if  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  had  made  potest  jiivenis  tdlerare  quemciinqiic 
;hi8  request,  which  was  faithfully  imposuerit  laborem  qui  potcrit 
.ibsen'ed.  maternum  jam  dpspicere  df>lorem.' 

*  Chaste!  p.  232.  — Hist,  of  Latin   Chrlstianiti/,  vol 

*  .See   a  clianioteristic   passage  ii.  p.  82. 


FKOil    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHAKLEJIAGNE.  135 

fear  of  hell  can  easily  break.  You  say  that  Scripture  orders 
you  to  obey  your  parents,  but  he  who  loves  them  more  than 
C!hrist  loses  his  soul.  The  enemy  blandishes  a  sword  to  slay 
me.     Shall  I  think  of  a  mother's  tears  1 ' ' 

The  sentiment  manifested  in  these  cases  continued  to  be 
displayed  in  later  ages.  Thus,  St.  Gregory  the  Great  as 
sures  us  that  a  certain  young  boy,  though  lie  had  em-olled 
himself  as  a  monk,  was  unable  to  repress  his  love  for  his 
parents,  and  one  night  stole  out  secretly  to  visit  them.  But 
the  judgment  of  God  soon  marked  the  enormity  of  the  offence. 
On  coming  back  to  the  monastery,  he  died  that  veiy  day,  and 
when  he  was  buried,  the  earth  refused  to  receive  so  heinous  a 
criminal.  His  body  was  repeatedly  thrown  up  from  the 
grave,  and  it  was  only  suffered  to  rest  in  peace  when  St. 
Benedict  had  laid  the  Sacrament  upon  its  bi-east.^  One  nun 
revealed,  it  is  said,  after  death,  that  she  had  been  condemned 
for  three  days  to  the  fires  of  purgatory,  because  she  had  loved 
her  mother  too  much.^  Of  another  saint  it  is  recorded  that 
liis  benevolence  was  such  that  he  was  never  knoAvn  to  be 
hard  or  inhuman  to  any  one  except  his  relations.*  St. 
Romuald,  the  founder  of  the  CamaldoUtes,  counted  his  father 
among  his  spii'itual  children,  and  on  one  occasion  punished 
him  by  flagellation.^  The  first  nun  whom  St.  Fi-ancis  of 
Assisi  eni'oUed  was  a  beautiful  girl  of  Assisi  named  Clai-a 
Scifi,  with  whom  he  had  for  some  time  carried  on  a  clandes- 
tine correspondence,  and  whose  flight  from  her  father's  home 
he  both  counselled  and  planned.*^  As  the  first  enthusiasm 
of  asceticism  died  away,  what  was  lost  in  influence  by 
the  father  was  gained  by  the  priest.     The  confessional  made 


'  Ep.  xiv.  (Ad  HclioSorum).  manus,  tamqnam  ignotos   illos  re- 

«  St.  Greg.  Dial.  ii.  24.  tpiciens.'-  Eollandists,  May  29. 

*  Bollandists,  May  3  (vol.  vii.  *  See  Jlelyot,  Did.  des  Ordm 
p.  501).  religieiix,  art. '  Canmldules.' 

*  '  JTospitibus  omni  locoac  tem-  "  See  the  charming  sketcli  in  tho 
pore   liberalissimus  fait.  .  .  Solis  Life  of  St.  Francis,  by  Hase. 
eonsangiiiueis  durus  erat  ct  iuhu- 


136  HISTORY    OF    EUHOPEAxN    MOllALS. 

this  pei-sonage  the  confidant  in  the  most  delicate  secrets  of 
domestic  life.  The  supremacy  of  authority,  of  sympathy,  and 
sometimes  even  of  affection,  passed  away  beyond  the  domestic 
circle,  and,  by  establishing  an  absolute  authority  over  the 
most  secret  thoughts  and  feelings  of  n(;rvous  and  credulous 
women,  the  i)riests  laid  the  foundation  of  the  empire  of 
the  world. 

The  picture  1  have  drawn  of  the  inroads  made  in  the  first 
period  of  asceticism  upon  the  domestic  ailections,  tells,  I 
think,  its  own  story,  and  I  shall  only  add  a  very  few  words 
of  comment.  That  it  is  necessary  for  many  men  who  are 
pursuing  a  truly  heroic  course  to  break  loose  from  the  tram- 
mels which  those  about  them  would  cast  ov(!r  their  actions 
or  their  opiaions,  and  that  this  severance  often  constitutes 
at  once  one  of  the  noblest  and  one  of  the  most  painful 
incidents  in  their  career,  are  unquestionable  truths ;  but 
the  examples  of  such  occasional  and  exceptional  sacrifices, 
endured  for  some  great  unselfish  end,  cannot  be  compared 
with  the  conduct  of  those  who  regarded  the  mortification  of 
domestic  love  as  in  itself  a  form  of  virtue,  and  whose  ends 
were  mainly  or  exclusively  selfish.  The  sufi'erings  endured 
by  the  ascetic  who  fled  fi-om  his  relations  were  often,  no 
doubt,  very  great.  Many  anecdotes  remain  to  show  that 
warm  and  affectionate  hearts  sometimes  beat  under  the  cold 
exterior  of  the  monk  ; '  and  St.  Jerome,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
remarked,  with  much  complacency  and  congratulation,  that 
the  very  bitterest  pang  of  captivity  is  simply  this  irrevocaV>Ie 


>  Tho  legend  of  St.  Scholastie.\,  Cassian    ppeaks   of  a   monk   who 

the  sister  of  St.  Benedict,  hiis  been  thought  it  iiis  duty  never  to  see 

often  quoted,     l/c  had  visited  her,  his  niother,  Init  vlio  hibourcd  for  a 

and  was  about  to  leave  in  tho  even-  whole  year  to  pay  off  a  debt  she 

iaia,  when  she  implored  him  to  stay,  had  incurred.  (Coenob.  Inst.  v.  38.) 

llo  refused,  and  she  then  prayed  to  St.  Jcronio   mention.s   the    strona; 

Ood,  who  sent  so  violent  a  tempest  natural  affection  of  Paula,  thoi^li 

tliat  tho  saint  was  unable  to  de-  slio  considered  it  a  virtue  to  mor 

part.      (St.    Greg.   Dial.    ii.    33.)  tify  it.     {Ep.  cviii.) 


FROM   CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  137 

separation  which  the  superstition  he  preached  induced  multi- 
tudes to  inflict  upon  themselves.  But  if,  putting  aside  the 
intrinsic  excellence  of  an  act,  we  attempt  to  estimate  tho 
nobility  of  the  agent,  we  must  consider  not  only  the  cost  of 
what  he  did,  but  also  the  motive  which  induced  him  to  do  it. 
It  is  this  last  consideration  which  renders  it  impossible  for  ua 
to  place  the  her-oism  of  the  ascetic  on  the  same  level  with  that 
of  the  great  patriots  of  Greece  or  Rome.  A  man  may  be  as 
truly  selfish  about  the  next  world  as  about  this.  Where  an 
ovei'powering  dread  of  futvu'e  torments,  or  an  intense  realisa- 
tion of  future  happiness,  is  the  leading  motive  of  action,  the 
theological  vii-tue  of  faith  may  be  present,  but  the  ennobling 
quality  of  disinterestedness  is  assuredly  absent.  In  our  day, 
when  pictures  of  rewards  and  punishments  beyond  the  grave 
act  but  feebly  upon  the  imagination,  a  I'eligious  motive  is 
commonly  an  unselfish  motive ;  but  it  has  not  always  been 
so,  and  it  was  undoubtedly  not  so  in  the  first  period  of  asce- 
ticism. The  terrors  of  a  future  judgment  drove  the  monk 
into  the  desert,  and  the  whole  tenor  of  the  ascetic  life,  while 
isolating  him  from  human  sympathies,  fostered  an  intense, 
though  it  may  be  termed  a  religious,  selfishness.     ;<. 

The  eflfect  of  the  mortiflcation  of  the  domestic  affections 
upon  the  general  character  was  probably  very  pernicious. 
The  family  circle  is  the  ap[>ointed  sphere,  not  only  for  the 
performance  of  manifest  duties,  but  a'.so  for  the  cultivation 
of  the  affections ;  and  the  extreme  ferocity  which  so  often 
chai-acterised  the  ascetic  was  the  natural  consequence  of  the 
discipline  he  imposed  upon  himself  Severed  from  all  other 
ties,  the  monks  clung  with  a  desperate  tenacity  to  their 
opinions  and  to  theii*  Church,  and  hated  those  who  dissented 
fi'om  them  with  all  the  intensity  of  men  whose  whole  Lives 
were  concentrated  on  a  single  subject,  whose  ignorance  and 
bigotry  prevented  them  fr'om  conceiving  the  possibility  of 
any  good  thing  in  opposition  to  themselves,  and  who  had 
made  it  a  main  objc<;t  of  their   discipline  to  eradicate  all 


138  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

natural  sympathies  and  affections.  We  may  reasonably  attii 
bute  to  the  fierce  biographer  the  words  of  burning  hatred  of 
all  heretics  which  St.  Athanasius  puts  in  the  mouth  of  the 
dying  patriarch  of  the  hermits ;  •  but  ecclesiastical  history, 
and  especially  the  writings  of  the  later  Pagans,  abundantly 
prove  that  the  sentiment  was  a  general  one.  To  the  Chris- 
tian bishops  it  is  mainly  due  that  the  wide  and  general, 
though  not  perfect,  recognition  of  religious  liberty  in  the 
Roman  legislation  was  replaced  by  laws  of  the  most  minute 
and  stringent  intolerance.  To  the  monks,  acting  as  the  exe- 
cutive of  an  omnipresent,  intolerant,  and  aggi-essive  clergy, 
is  due  an  administrative  change,  perhaps  even  more  impor- 
tant than  the  legislative  change  that  had  preceded  it.  The 
system  of  conniving  at,  neglecting,  or  despising  forms  of 
worship  that  were  formally  prohibited,  which  had  been  so 
largely  practised  by  the  sceptical  Pagans,  and  under  the  lax 
police  system  of  the  Empire,  and  which  is  so  important  a  fact 
in  the  history  of  the  rise  of  Christianity,  was  absolutely  de- 
stroyed. Wandering  in  bands  through  the  country,  the 
monks  were  accustomed  to  burn  the  temples,  to  bi^eak  the 
idols,  to  overthrow  the  altars,  to  engage  in  fierce  conflicts 
with  the  peasants,  who  often  defended  with  desperate  courage 
the  shrines  of  their  gods.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive 
men  more  fitted  for  the  task.  Their  fierce  fanaticism,  their 
persuasion  that  every  idol  was  tenanted  by  a  literal  da-mon, 
and  their  belief  that  death  incurred  in  this  iconoclastic 
crusade  was  a  form  of  martyrdom,  made  them  careless  of  all 
consequences  to  themselves,  while  the  reverence  that  attached 
to  theii-  profession  rendered  it  scarcely  possible  for  the  civil 
power  to  arrest  them.  Men  who  had  learnt  to  look  with  in- 
difference on  the  tears  of  a  broken-hearted  mother,  and  wliose 
ideal  was  iudissolubly  connected  with  the  degi-adatiou  of  the 


'  Life  of  Antony.     .See,  too,  'he  senMments  of  St.  Pachomiug,  ViU 
cap.  xxvii. 


FUOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  131/ 

DoJy,  were  but  little  likely  to  be  moved  either  by  the  pathos 
of  old  associations,  and  of  I'everent,  though  mistaken,  worship. 
or  by  the  grandeur  of  the  Serapeum,  or  of  the  noble  statues  oJ 
Phidias  and  Piuxiteles.  Sometimes  the  civil  power  ordered 
the  reconstruction  of  Jewish  synagogues  or  heretical  churches 
w'hich  had  been,  illegally  destroyed ;  but  the  doctrine  was 
early  maintained  that  such  a  reconstruction  was  a  deadly  sin. 
Under  Julian  some  Christians  suffered  martyrdom  sooner 
'than  be  parties  to  it ;  and  St.  Ambrose  from  the  pulpit 
of  Milan,  and  Simeon  Stylites  from  his  desert  pillar,  united 
in  denouncing  Theodosius,  who  had  been  guilty  of  issuing 
this  command. 

Another  very  important  moral  result  to  which  asceticism 
largely  contributed  was  the  depression  and  sometimes  ahnost 
the  extinction  of  the  civic  virtues.  A  candid  examination 
will  show  that,  the  Christian  civilisations  have  been  as  infe- 
rior to  the  Pagan  ones  in  civic  and  intellectual  virtues  as  they 
have  been  superior  to  them  in  the  virtues  of  humanity  and 
of  chastity.  Wo  ha.ve  already  seen  that  one  remarkable  fea- 
ture of  the  intellectual  movement  that  preceded  Christianity 
was  the  gradual  decadence  of  patriotism.  In  the  early  days 
both  of  Greece  and  Rome,  the  first  duty  enforced  was  that  of 
a  man  to  his  country.  This  was  the  rudimentary  or  cardinal 
virtue  of  the  moi-al  type.  It  gave  the  tone  to  the  whole 
system  of  ethics,  and  different  moral  qualities  were  valued 
chiefly  in  propoi^tion  to  theii-  tendency  to  form  illustriou.s 
citizens.  The  destruction  of  this  sjiirit  in  the  Roman  Empire 
was  due,  as  we  have  seen,  to  two  causes— one  of  them  being 
political  and  the  other  intellectual.  The  political  cause 
was  the  amalgamation  of  the  different  nations  in  one  great 
despotism,  which  gave  indeed  an  ample  field  for  personal 
and  intellectual  freedom,  but  extinguished  the  sentiment 
»f  nationality  and  closed  almost  every  sphere  of  political 
acti^•ity.  The  intellectual  cause,  which  was  by  no  means 
nnconnected  with  the  political  one,  was  the  growing  ascend 


140  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

ancy  of  Oriental  philosophies,  which  dethroned  the  active 
Stoicism  of  the  early  Empii-e,  and  placed  its  ideal  cf  ex- 
cellence in  contemplative  virtues  and  in  elaborate  puii- 
fications.  By  this  decline  of  the  patriotic  sentiment  the 
progress  of  the  new  faith  was  greatly  aided.  In  all  matters 
cf  religion  the  opinions  of  men  are  governed  much  more  by 
their  sympatliies  than  by  their  judgments  ;  and  it  rarely  or 
never  happens  that  a  religion  which  is  opposed  to  a  strong 
national  sentiment,  as  Christianity  was  in  Judea,  as  Catholi- 
cism and  Episcopalian  Protestantism  have  been  in  Scotland, 
and  as  Anglicanism  is  even  now  in  Ireland,  can  win  the  ac- 
ceptance of  the  people. 

The  relations  of  Christianity  to  the  sentiment  of  patriot  • 
ism  were  from  the  first  very  unfortunate.  While  the  Chris 
tians  were,  for  obvious  reasons,  completely  sej^arated  fron. 
the  national  spirit  of  Judea,  they  found  themselves  equally 
at  variance  with  the  lingering  remnants  of  Roman  patriot- 
ism. Rome  was  to  them  the  power  of  Antichrist,  and  its 
overthrow  the  necessary  prelude  to  the  millennial  reign. 
They  foi-med  an  illegal  organisation,  directly  opposed  to  the 
genius  of  the  Empire,  anticipating  its  speedy  dcsti-uction, 
looking  back  with  something  more  than  despondency  to 
the  fate  of  the  heroes  who  adorned  its  past,  and  refusing 
resolutely  to  participate  in  those  national  spectacles  which 
were  the  symbols  and  the  expressions  of  patriotic  feeling. 
Though  scriipulously  averse  to  all  rebellion,  they  rarely  con- 
cealed their  sentiments,  and  the  whole  tendency  of  their 
teaching  was  to  withdraw  men  .is  far  as  possible  both  from 
the  functions  and  the  enthtisiasm  of  public  life.  It  was  at 
once  their  confession  and  their  boast,  that  no  interests  were 
more  indiiTerenb  to  them  than  those  of  their  countiy.^  They 
regai-ded  the  lawfulness  of  taking  arms  as  very  (piestionablej 


'  '  Nee    -ill.i    res   aliena   m.igis   quani    publica.' — Tertullian,    /ip'>l. 
:h.  zxxviii. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


141 


and  all  fclioso  proud  and  aspiring  qualities  that  constitute  the 
distinctive  beauty  of  the  soldier's  character  as  emphatically 
unchristian.  Their  home  and  their  interests  were  in  another 
world,  and,  provided  only  they  were  unmolested  in  their 
worship,  they  avowed  with  frankness,  long  after  the  Empire 
had  become  Chi-istian,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  indiffeience  to 
them  under  what  rule  they  lived.'  Asceticism,  drawing  all 
the  enthusiasm  of  Christendom  to  the  desert  life,  and  ele- 
vating as  an  ideal  the  extreme  and  absolute  abnegation  of 
all  patriotism,^  formed  the  culmination  of  the  movement, 
and  was  undoubtedly  one  cause  of  the  downfall  of  the 
iloman  Empire. 

There  are,  probably,  few  subjects  on  which  popular  judg- 
ments are  commonly  more  erroneous  than  upon  tbe  relations 


'  '  Quid  interest  sub  cujxis  im- 
perio  vivat  homo  raoriturus,  si  illi 
qui  imperant,  .id  iitipia  et  iuiqua 
lion  cogant.'  — St.  Aug.  Be  Civ.  Dei, 
V.  17. 

2  St.  Jerome  declares  that 
*  Monachum  iu  patria  sua  pf-r- 
fectum  esse  non  pos^e,  perfectum 
autem  esse  nolle  delinquere  est.' 
—  Ep.  xiv.  Dean  Milman  -nell 
says  of  a  later  period:  'According 
to  the  monastic  view  of  Chris- 
tianity, the  total  abandonment 
of  the  world,  with  all  its  ties  and 
duties,  as  well  as  its  treasures,  its 
enjoyments,  and  objects  of  am- 
bition, advanced  ratlier  than  dimi- 
nished the  hopes  of  salvation. 
Why  should  they  figlit  for  a  perish- 
ing world,  fi-om  which  it  was  better 
to  be  estranged  ?  ...  It  is  singu- 
lar, indeed,  that  while  wo  have  seen 
the  Eastern  monks  turned  into 
fierce  undisciplined  soldiers,  peril- 
ling their  own  lives  and  shedding 
the  blood  of  others  without  re- 
morse, in  assertion  of  some  shado'wy 
•liade     of    orthodox    expression, 


hardly  anywhere  do  we  find  them 
asserting  their  liberties  or  their 
religion  with  intrepid  resistance. 
Hatred  of  heresy  was  a  mere  .>-tir- 
ring  motive  than  the  dread  or  the 
danger  of  Islamism.  After  the 
first  defeats  the  Christian  mind 
was  still  further  prostrated  by  the 
common  notion  that  the  invasion 
was  a  just  and  heaven-commis- 
sioned visitation ;  .  .  .  resistance 
a  vain,  almost  an  impious  struggle 
to  avert  inevitiible  punishment.'  — 
Milman's  Latin  Christianity,  vol. 
ii.  p.  206.  Compare  JVIassillon's 
famous  Discours  au  Begnnent  de 
Catinat : — '  Ce  qu'il  y  a  ici  de  plus 
deplorable,  c'est  que  dans  une  vie 
rude  et  p6nible,  dans  des  emplois 
dont  les  devoirs  passent  quelque- 
fois  la  rigueur  des  cloitres  les  plus 
austircs,  vous  souiFrez  toujours  en 
v.ain  pour  Taut  re  vie.  .  .  .  Dix  auH 
de  services  ont  plus  us^  votre  corpi 
qu'uno  vie  enti^re  de  penitence  .  . 
.  .  un  seul  jour  de  ces  sovLflFrances, 
consacr^  au  Seigneur,  vous  aurait 
peut-6tre  valu  ua  bonheur  ^temeL' 


1 42  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

between  positive  religions  and  moral  enthusiasm.     Religiona 
have,  no  doubt,  a  most  real  power  of  evoking  a  latent  energy 
which,  without  their  existence,  would  never  have  been  called 
into  action;  but  their  influence  is  on  the  whole  probaVly 
more  attractive  than  creative.     They  supply  the  channel  in 
which  moral  enthusiasm  flows,  the  banner  under  which  it 
is  enlisted,  the  mould  in  which  it  is  cast,  the  ideal  to  which 
it  tends.     The  first  idea  which  the  phrase  '  a  very  good  man' 
would  have  suggested  to  an  early  Roman  would  probably  have 
been  that  of  great  and  distinguished  patriotism,  and  the  passion 
and  interest  of  such  a  man  in  his  country's  cause  were  in 
du-ect  proportion  to  his  moral  elevation.    Ascetic  Christianity 
decisively  diverted  moral  enthusiasm  iuto  another  channel, 
and  the*  civic  virtues,  in  consequence,  necessarily  declined. 
The  extinction  of  all  public  spirit,  the  base  treachery  and 
corruption  pervading  every  department  of  the  Government, 
the  cowardice  of  the  army,  the  despicable  frivolity  of  character 
that  led  the  people  of  Ti-eves,  when  fresh  from  their  burning 
city,  to  call  for  theatres  and  circuses,  and  the  people  of  Roman 
Carthage  to  plunge  wildly  into  the  excitement  of  the  chariot 
races,  on  the  very  day  when  their  city  succumbed  beneath 
the  Vandal;'  all  these  tilings  coexisted  with  extraordinary 
displays  of  ascetic  and  of  missionary  devotion.     The  genius 
and  the  virtue  that  might  have  defended  the  Empire  were  en- 
gaged in  fierce  disputes  about  the  Pelagian  controversy,  at  the 
ve^time  when  Alaricwas  encircling  Rome  with  his  armies,* 
and  there  was  no  subtlety  of  theological  metaphysics  which 
did  not  kindle  a  deeper  interest  in  the  Christian  leaders  than 
the  throes  of  theii-  expiring  country.     The  moral  enthusiasm 
that  in  other  days  would  have  fired  the  annies  of  Rome  with 

'  See  a  very  striking  passage  in  Pelage    que    de    la    desolation    de 

Siilviao,  De  Guhcrn.  Div.  lib.  vi.  I'Afrique  et  des  Gaulcs  -A/«|y.* 

^  Chateaubriand     very     truly  hktor.   vi-  d.scours,    2'"    jjarl  e. 

gays, 'qu'Orose  et  saint  Augustin  The   i^mark  might    certainly    ba 

etoient  plus  occup^s  du  schisme  de  extended  much  further. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  1 43 

aa  invincible  valoui*,  impelled  thousands  to  abandon  their 
cvuntiy  and  their  homes,  and  consume  the  weary  hours  in  a 
long  routine  of  useless  and  horrible  macerations.  "When  the 
Goths  had  captured  Rome,  St.  Augustine,  as  we  have  seen 
pointed  with  a  just  pride  to  the  Christian  Church,  which  re- 
mained an  un violated  sanctuary  during  the  horrors  of  the 
sack,  as  a  proof  that  a  new  spiiit  of  sanctity  and  of  rever 
ence  had  descended  upon  the  world.  The  Pagan,  in  his  turn, 
pointed  to  what  he  deemed  a  not  less  significant  fact — the 
golden  statues  of  Valour  and  of  Fortune  were  melted  down 
to  pay  the  ransom  to  the  conquerors. '  Many  of  the  Chris- 
tians contemplated  with  an  indifference  that  almost  amounted 
to  complacency  what  they  regarded  as  the  predicted  ruin  of 
the  city  of  the  fallen  gods.^  When  the  Yandals  swept  over 
Africa,  the  Donatists,  maddened  by  the  persecution  of  the 
orthodox,  received  them  with  open  arms,  and  contributed 
their  share  to  that  deadly  blow.^  The  immortal  pass  of 
Thermopylae  was  surrendered  without  a  struggle  to  the 
Goths.  A  Pasran  writer  accused  the  monks  of  havinsr  be- 
trayed  it.^  It  is  more  probable  that  they  had  absorbed  or 
cUverted  the  heroism  that  in  other  days  would  have  defended 
it.  The  conquest,  at  a  later  date,  of  Egypt,  by  the  Moham- 
medans, was  in  a  great  measure  due  to  an  invitation  from 
the  persecuted  Monophy sites. ^     Subsequent  religious  wais 


*  Zos]mns,  Hist.  Y.-il.  This  was  ^  Sismondi,  Hist,  de  la  Chuie  de 
on  tho  first  occasion  when  Rome  I'Empire  remain,  tome  ii.  pp.  52- 
was  menaced  by  Alaric.  54 ;  Alilman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris- 

*  See  Merivale's  CoMi'ers/o?}  of  tianiti/,\(A.\\.^.'2\Z.  The  Mono- 
the  Nortkerti  Nations,  pp.  207-  physites  were  greatly  afflicted  be- 
210.  cause,  after  the  conquest,  the  Mo- 

'  See    Sismondi,    Hist,    de    la  hammedans  tolerated  tl)e  orthodox 

Chute  de  rEmijire  romain,  tome  i.  believers    as    well    as    theinscl\-es, 

p.  230.  and   were    unable    to    appreciate 

<  Eunapius.     There  isi  no  other  the  distinction  between  them.     In 

authority    for    the    story    of    the  Gaul,  the  orthodox  clergy  favoured 

treachery,  which    is  not  believed  the  invasions  of  the  Franks,  who, 

b\  Gilbon.  alone  of  the  barbarian  concperor» 


144  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

have  again  and  again  exhibited  the  same  phenomenon.  Tlif. 
ti'eacheiy  of  a  religionist  to  his  country  no  longer  argued  an 
absence  of  all  moral  feeling.  It  had  become  compatible  witli 
the  deepest  religious  enthusiasm,  and  with  all  the  courage  (l' 
a  martyr. 

It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  how  far 
the  attitude  assumed  by  the  Church  towards  the  barbaiiau 
invaders  has  on  the  whole  proved  beneficial  to  mankind.  The 
Empire,  as  we  have  seen,  had  long  been,  both  morally  and  po- 
litically, in  a  condition  of  manifest  decline ;  its  fall,  though  it 
might  have  been  retarded,  could  scai-cely  have  been  averted, 
and  the  new  religion,  even  in  its  most  supei-stitious  form, 
while  it  did  much  to  displace,  did  also  much  to  elicit  moral 
enthusiasm.  It  is  impossible  to  deny  that  the  Christian 
priesthood  contributed  vei-y  materially,  both  by  their  charity 
and  by  their  arbitration,  to  mitigate  the  calamities  that 
accompanied  the  dissolution  of  the  Empire ; '  and  it  is  equally 
impossible  to  doubt  that  their  political  attitude  greatly 
increased  their  power  for  good.  Standing  between  the  con- 
flicting forces,  almost  indiflferent  to  the  issue,  and  notoriously 
e.Kempt  from  the  passions  of  the  combat,  they  obtained  with 
the  conqueror,  and  used  for  the  benefit  of  the  conquered,  a 
degree  of  influence  they  would  never  have  }X)sse.ssed,  had  they 
been  regarded  as  Roman  patriots.  Their  attitude,  however, 
marked  a  complete,  and,  as  it  has  proved,  a  permanent,  change 
in  the  position  assigned  to  patriotism  in  the  moral  scale.     It 


of  Gaul,  were   Catholics,  and  St.  -was  true  to  those  of  mankind.' — 

Aprunculus  was  oliliged  to  fly,  tlie  Hist,  of  ChrLstianity,  vol.  iii.  p.  48. 

Burgundians  desiring  to  kill   him  Sodibbon:  'If  tlio  decline  of  the 

on  account  of  liis  suspt^cted  con-  Iloman    Empire  was  hastened  by 

nivance  with  the  invaders.    (Greg,  the  conversion  of  Constantine,  tlie 

Tur.  ii.  23.)  victorious  religion  broke  tho  Ano- 

'  Dean    Milm:in    Bays    of    the  lence  of  tho  fall  and  mollified  tho 

Cliurch,  'if  treaclicrous  to  the  in-  ferocious  temper  of  the  conquerorH.' 

tarestH  of  the   Roman  Empire,  it  — Ch.  xxxviiu 


FIxOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  145 

has  occasionally  happened  in  later  times,  that  churches  have 
found  it  for  their  interest  to  appeal  to  this  sentiment  in  theii* 
conflict  with  opposing  creeds,  or  that  patidots  have  found  the 
objects  of  chui"chmen  in  harmony  with  their  own ;  and  in 
these  cases  a  fusion  of  theological  and  patriotic  feeling  has 
taken  place,  in  which  each  has  intensified  the  other.  Such 
has  been  the  effect  of  the  conflict  between  the  Spaniards  anil 
the  Moors,  between  the  Poles  and  the  Russians,  between  tho 
Scotch  Puritans  and  the  English  Episcopalians,  between  the 
Irish  Catholics  and  the  English  Protestants.  But  patriotism 
itself,  as  a  duty,  has  never  found  any  place  in  Christian 
ethics,  and  strong  theological  feehng  has  usually  been  directly 
hostile  to  its  growth.  Ecclesiastics  have,  no  doubt,  taken  a 
very  large  share  in  political  affairs,  but  this  has  been  in  most 
cases  solely  with  the  object  of  wresting  them  into  conformity 
with  ecclesiastical  designs ;  and  no  other  body  of  men  have 
so  uniformly  sacrificed  the  interests  of  their  country  to  the 
interests  of  their  class.  For  the  repugnance  between  the 
theological  and  the  patriotic  spirit,  three  reasons  may,  I 
think,  be  assigned.  The  first  is  that  tendency  of  strong 
religious  feeling  to  divert  the  mind  from  all  terrestrial  cares 
and  passions,  of  which  the  ascetic  life  was  the  extreme 
expression,  but  which  has  always,  under  different  forms,  been 
manifested  in  the  Church.  The  second  arises  from  the  fact 
that  each  form  of  theological  opinion  embodies  itself  in  a 
visible  and  organised  church,  with  a  government,  interest, 
and  policy  of  its  own,  and  a  frontier  often  intersecting  rather 
than  following  national  boundaries ;  and  these  churches 
attract  to  themselves  the  attachment  and  devotion  that 
would  naturally  be  bestowed  upon  the  country  and  its 
rulers.  The  third  reason  is,  that  the  saintly  and  the  heroic 
charactei'S,  which  represent  the  ideals  of  religion  and  of 
patriotism,  are  generically  different ;  for  although  they  have 
no  doubt  many  common  elements  of  viitue,  the  distinctive 


146  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

excellence  of  each  is  derived  from  a  proportion  or  disposition 
of  qualities  altogether  aifferent  from  that  of  the  other.' 

Before  dismissing  this  veiy  important  revolution  in  moi-al 
history,  I  may  add  two  remarks.  In  the  fii-st  place,  we  may 
observe  that  the  relation  of  the  two  great  schools  of  morals 
to  active  and  political  life  has  been  completely  changed. 
Among  the  ancients,  the  Stoics,  who  regarded  virtue  and 
vice  as  generically  different  from  all  other  things,  participated 
actively  in  public  life,  and  made  this  participation  one  of  the 
first  of  duties ;  while  the  Epicureans,  who  resolved  virtue  into 
utility,  and  esteemed  happiness  its  supreme  motive,  abstained 
from  public  life,  and  taught  their  disciples  to  neglect  it. 
Asceticism  followed  the  Stoical  school  in  teaching  that  virtue 
and  happiness  are  generically  different  things ;  but  it  was  at 
the  same  time  eminently  unfavourable  to  civic  vii-tue.  On 
the  other  hand,  that  great  industrial  movement  which  has 
arisen  since  the  abolition  of  slavery,  and  which  has  always 
been  essentially  utilitarian  in  its  spirit,  has  been  one  of  the 
most  active  and  influential  elements  of  political  progi'ess. 
This  change,  though,  as  far  as  I  know,  entii-ely  unnoticed  by 
hi.storians,  constitutes,  I  believe,  one  of  the  great  landmarks 
of  moral  history. 

The  second  observation  I  would  make  relates  to  the  esti- 
mate we  form  of  the  value  of  patriotic  actions.     However 


'  Observe  with  what  a  fine  per-  num   existimationem    .  .  .    causa 

ception  St.  Aufcu.stine   notices  tiio  honoris,  lauilis  ot  glorire  consulue- 

ussentialiy    unchristian    character  runt  patriic,  in  qua  ipsam  gloriam 

cf  the  moral  dispositions  to  which  roquirebant,  salutemqno  ejus  saluti 

tiio   greatness   of    Komo  was  due.  su*  prreponere  non  dubitaverunt, 

He  quotes  the  sentence  of  Sallust :  pro   isto  uno  vitio,  id    est,  amoie 

'Civitas,  incredibilo  memoratu  est,  laudis,    pecunine     cupiditatem    ct 

adeptii    libertato    quantum    brcvi  multa  alia  vitia  conipnmentcs.   .  . 

creverit,  tanta  ciipido  gloriae  inces-  Quid  aliud  amarcnt  quiim  ^I'Tiani, 

sent;    and  adds: 'Ista  ergo  laudis  qua  volebant   etiam    post  morlcni 

aviditas    ft   cupido    gloriic   multa  tanqunm  viveroin  orelaudantium? 

ilia  miranda  fecit,  laudaliil't%  scili-  — i'e  Civ.  Dei,  v.  12-i3. 
cet  atque  gloriosa  secundum  li(jnii- 


FROM    CONSTANTIXE    TO    CirARLEMAGNE.  147 

much  historians  may  desire  to  extend  their  researches  to  the 
private  and  domestic  vu-tucs  of  a  people,  civic  virtues  are 
always  those  which  must  appear  most  prominently  in  their 
pages.  History  is  concerned  only  wdth  large  bodies  of  men. 
The  systems  of  philosophy  or  religion  which  produce  splendid 
results  on  the  great  theatre  of  public  life  are  fully  and  ea-sily 
appreciated,  and  readers  and  writers  are  both  liable  to  give 
them  very  undue  advantages  over  those  systems  which  do 
not  favour  civic  virtues,  but  exercise  their  beneficial  influence 
in  the  more  obscure  fields  of  individual  self-cultiue,  domestic, 
morals,  or  private  charity.  If  valued  by  the  self-sacrificp 
they  imply,  or  by  their-  effects  upon  human  hapjjiness,  these 
last  rank  very  high,  but  they  scarcely  appear  in  history,  and 
they  therefore  seldom  obtain  their  due  weight  in  historical 
comparisons.  Chi-istianity  has,  I  think,  suffered  peculiarly 
from  this  cause.  Its  moral  action  has  always  been  much 
more  powerful  upon  individuals  than  upon  societies,  and  the 
spheres  in  which  its  superiority  over  other  religions  is  most 
incontestable,  are  precisely  those  wliich  history  is  least 
capable  of  realising. 

In  attempting  to  estimate  the  moral  condition  of  the 
Eoman  and  Byzantine  Empires  during  the  Christian  period, 
and  before  the  old  civilisation  had  been  dissolved  by  the 
barbarian  or  Mohammedan  invasions,  we  must  continually 
bear  this  last  consideration  in  mind.  "We  must  remember, 
too,  that  Christianity  had  acquired  an  ascendancy  among 
nations  which  were  already  deeply  tainted  by  the  inveterate 
^ices  of  a  corrupt  and  decaying  ciWlisation,  and  also  that 
many  of  the  censors  from  whose  pages  we  are  obliged  to 
form  our  estimate  of  the  age  were  men  who  judged  human 
frailties  with  all  the  fastidiousness  of  ascetics,  and  wlio  ex- 
pressed then- judgments  with  all  the  declamatory  exaggeration 
of  the  pulpit.  Modern  critics  will  prol-ably  not  lay  much 
stress  upon  the  relapse  of  the  Christians  into  the  ordinary 
dress  and  usages  of  the  luxurious  society  about  tliem,  upon 


148  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

fclie  ridicule  thrown  by  Christians  on  those  who  still  adhered 
to  the  primitive  austerity  of  the  sect,  or  upon  the  fact  that 
multitudes  who  were  once  mere  nominal  Pagans  had  become 
mere  nominal  Christians.     We  find,  too,  a  frequent  disposi- 
tion on  hhe  part  of  moralists  to  single  out  some  new  form  of 
krxury,  or  some  trivial  custom  which  they  regarded  as  indeco 
rous,  for  the  most  extravagant  denunciation,  and  to  magnify 
its  importance  in  a  manner  which  in  a  later  age  it  is  difficult 
even  to  understand.     Examples  of  this  kind  may  be  found 
both  in  Pagan  and  in  Christian  writings,  and  they  form  an 
extremely  curious  page  in  the  history  of  morals.      Thus 
Juvenal  exhausts  his  vocabulary  of  invective  in  denouncing 
the  atrocious  criminality  of  a  certain  ncble,  who  in  the  very 
year  of  his  consulship  did  not  hesitate — not,  it  is  true,  by 
day,  but  at  least  in  the  sight  of  the  moon  and  of  the  stars— 
with  his  own  hand  to  drive  his  own  chariot  along  the  public 
road.i     Seneca  was  scarcely  less  scandalised  by  the  atrocious 
and,  as  he   thought,   unnatural  luxury  of  those  who   had 
adopted  the  custom  of  cooling  different  beverages  by  mixing 
them  with  snow.^     Pliny  assures  us  that  the  most  monstrous 
of  all  criminals  was  the  man  who  first  devised  the  luxurious 
custom  of  wearing  golden  rings.3     Apuleius  was  compelled 
to  defend  himself  for  having  eulogised  tooth-powder,  and  ho 
did  so,  among  other  ways,  by  arguing  that  nature  has  justified 
this  form  of  propriety,  for  crocodiles  were  known  periodically 
to  leave  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  and  to  lie  with  open  jawa 


•Prffitcr  mMJ.mim   cineres  atquo  Quum  fuei-it,  clam  Diimiusippua 

088a,Y0lucri  ^  liuo  ilagollum 

Carpcnto  rapitur  pinguis  Dama-  Sumet.  —Juvenal,  Sat.  vm.  HC. 

tiippus  et  ipse,  2  ^r„i  Qawst.  iv.  13.     Ep.  78. 

Ipse  rotam  striiigit  multo  suffli-  s  .  l>essiinum  vitic  seelus  fecit, 

mine  consul ;                        _  qui  id  [aurum]    primus  induit  di 

Nocte  quidem;    scd   luna  ^idot,  gjijg.  ...  quisquis  primus  instiUiit 

sed  sidera  testes        _  cunctanter  id  ffcit,  laevisquo  mani* 

IntenduntoculoB.     Finitum  tern-  ^„j,^  latentibusque  induit.' — riin. 

pus  honoris  Hist.  Nat.  xxxiii.  4. 


FROM    CONSTANTINK    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  149 

apon  the  banks,  while  a  certain  bird  proceeds  with  its  beak 
to  clean  their  teeth.'  If  we  were  to  measure  the  criminality 
of  different  customs  by  the  vehemence  of  the  patristic  denun- 
ciations, we  might  almost  conclude  that  the  most  atrocious 
offence  of  their  day  was  the  cu^stom  of  wearing  false  haii. 
or  dyeing  natural  haii*.  Clement  of  Alexandria  questioned 
whether  the  validity  of  certain  ecclesiastical  ceremonies 
might  not  be  affected  by  wigs ;  for,  he  asked,  when  the  priest 
is  placing  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the  person  wlio  kneela 
before  him,  if  that  hand  is  resting  upon  false  hair,  who  is  it 
he  is  really  blessing  ]  Tertullian  shuddered  at  the  thought 
that  Chi-istians  might  have  the  haii-  of  those  who  were  in  hell, 
upon  their  heads,  and  he  found  in  the  tiers  of  false  hair  that 
wei-e  in  use  a  distinct  rebellion  against  the  assertion  that  no 
one  can  add  to  his  stature,  and,  in  the  custom  of  dyeing  thr 
hair,  a  contravention  of  the  declaration  that  man  cannot 
make  one  hair  white  or  black.  Centuries  rolled  away.  The 
Roman  Empire  tottered  to  its  fall,  and  floods  of  vice  and 
soriow  overspread  the  world  ;  but  still  the  denunciations  of 
the  Fathers  wei'e  unabated.  St.  Ambrose,  St.  Jerome,  and 
St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  continued  with  uncom])romising  vehe- 
mence the  war  against  false  hair,  which  Tertullian  and 
Clement  of  Alexandiia  had  begun.* 

But  although  the  vehemence  of  the  Fathers  on  such  trivial 
matters  might  appear  at  first  sght  to  imply  the  existence  of 
a  society  in  which  grave  coiTuption  was  rare,  such  a  conclu- 
sion would  be  totally  untrue.  After  every  legitimate  allow- 
ance has  been  made,  the  pictures  of  Roman  society  by  Am- 
mianus  Marcellinus,  of  the  society  of  Marseilles,  by  Salvian, 
of  the  society  of  Asia  Minor,  and  of  Constantinople,  by 
Chrysostom,  as  well  as  the  whole  tenor  of  the  history,  and 


'  See  a  curious  passage  in  his  *  The  history  of  false  hair  has 

Apol.ogia.    It  should  be  said  that  been  written  with  much  learning 

we  have  only  his  own  account  of  by  M.  Gucrlt-  in  his  Eloge  dcs  For- 

the  charge*  brought  against  him.  ruqite3. 

42 


150  HISTOET    OF    EUEOPEAN    MOBAL.". 

innumerable  incidental  notices  in  the  writers,  of  the  tinie, 
exhibit  a  conrlition  of  depravity,  and  especially  of  degrada- 
tion, which  has  seldom  been  surpassed.^  The  corruption  had 
reached  classes  and  institutions  that  appeared  the  most  holy. 
Tlie  Agapse,  or  love  feasts,  which  formed  one  of  the  most 
touching  symbols  of  Christian  unity,  had  become  scenes  of 
drunkenness  and  of  riot.  Denounced  by  the  Fathers,  con- 
demned by  the  Council  of  Laodicea  in  the  fourth  century, 
and  afterwards  by  the  Coxmcil  of  Carthage,  they  lingered  as 
a  scandal  and  an  offence  till  they  were  finally  stippressed  by 
the  Council  of  Trullo,  at  the  end  of  the  seventh  century.^ 
The  commemoration  of  the  martyrs  soon  degenerated  into 
scandalous  dissipation.  Fairs  were  held  on  the  occasion, 
gross  breaches  of  chastity  were  frequent,  and  the  annual  fes- 
tival was  suppressed  on  account  of  the  immorality  it  pro- 
duced.' The  ambiguous  position  of  the  clergy  with  reference 
to  marriage  already  led  to  grave  disorder.  ]  n  the  time  of 
St.  Cyprian,  before  the  outbreak  of  the  Decian  persecution, 
it  bad  been  common  to  find  clergy  professing  celibacy,  but 
keeping,  under  various  pretexts,  their  mistresses  in  their 
houses  ;  ■•  and,  after  Constantine,  the  complaints  on  this  sub- 
ject became  loud  and  general.*  Virgins  and  monks  often  lived 
together  in  the  same  house,  professing  sometimes  to  share  in 


'  The  fullest  view  of  tliis  age  is  pirt  i.  cli.  vii. 
given  in  a  very  learned  little  work  *  Ep.  Ixi. 

hy  Peter  Erasmus  MiilUT  (1797),  *  Evagrius  describes  with  much 

De  Genio  JCui  Thcndcmani.  Mont-  admiration    how  certain   monks   of 

faiifon  h;i8  also  devoted  two  essays  Palestine,  by  '  ;i  life  wholly  exed- 

to  the  moral  condition  of  the  East-  lent  and  divine,' had   so  overcoiiif 

ern  world,  one  of  which  is  given  in  their  passions   that  they  were  ac- 

Jorlin's  liemarks  on  Ecclesiastical  cnstomotl    to    bathe  with    women ; 

llist'Ty.  for  '  neither  sight  nor  touch,  nor  a 

^  See  on  these  abuses  Mosheim,  woman's  embrnce,  could  msike  them 

W.r/. //t.s/l.  (Soame's  od.),  vol.  i.  p.  relapse  into  their  natur;il  c<iii<lition. 

ir,:i;  Ciixe'B  Primitive  Ckristianiti/,  Among    men    they    desired    to    be 

part  i.  eh.  xi.  m('n,  and  among  women,  women. 

'  CavbH Primitive  Chriatianify ,  {H.  E.  i.  21.") 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


151 


chaijtitj  the  same  bed.'  Rich  widows  were  surround«,il  by 
Bwai'ms  of  clerical  sycophants,  who  addressed  them  in  tender 
diminutives,  studied  and  consulted  their  eveiy  foible,  and, 
under  the  guise  of  piety,  lay  in  wait  for  their  gifts  or  be- 
quests.^ The  evil  attained  such  a  point  that  a  law  waa 
made  under  Yalentrnian  depriving  the  Christian  priests 
and  monks  of  that  power  of  receiving  legacies  which  was 
possessed  by  every  other  class  of  the  community ;  and  St. 
Jerome  has  mounxfully  acknowledged  that  the  prohibition 
was  necessary.'  Great  multitudes  entered  the  Chiu-ch  to 
avoid  municipal  offices ;  *  the  deserts  were  crowded  with  men 
whose  sole  object  was  to  escape  from  honest  labour,  and  even 
soMiers  used  to  desert  their  colours  for  the  monasteries.-^ 


'  These  '  mulieres  subintro-- 
ductse,'  as  they  were  called,  are 
continually  noticed  Ly  Cyprian, 
Jerome,  and  Chrysostom.  See 
JVIiiller,  Be  Genio  Mih  Thcodosiani, 
and  also  the  Codex  Theod.  xvi.  tit. 
ii  lex  44,  with  the  Comments.  Dr. 
Toddj  in  his  learned  Life  of  St. 
Patrick  (p.  91),  quotes  (I  sh.dl  not 
venture  to  do  so)  from  the  Lives  of 
the  Irish  Saints  an  extremely  curi- 
ous legend  of  a  kind  of  contest  of 
sanctity  between  St.  Scuthinus  and 
St.  Brendan,  in  whica  it  was  clearly 
proved  that  the  former  hail  mas- 
tered his  passions  more  completely 
than  tlie  latter.  An  enthusiast 
named  Robert  d' Arbrisselh  s  is  said 
in  the  twelfth  century  to  have  re- 
vived the  custom.  (Jr)rti)i's  Re- 
marks, A.T).  1106.) 

^  St.  Jerome  gives  (£/>.  lii.)  an 
extremely  curious  picture  of  these 
tltrical  flatterers,  and  several  ex- 
amples of  the  terms  of  endearment 
they  were  accustomed  to  employ. 
The  tone  of  flattery  which  St.  Je- 
rome himself,  though  doubtless 
with  the  purest  motives,  employs 


in  his  copious  correspon  lence  with 
his  female  admirers,  is  to  a  modern 
layntin  peculiarly  repulsive,  and 
sometimes  verges  upon  blasplieny. 
In  his  letter  to  Eustochium,  whose 
daugliter  as  a  nun  had  become  the 
'  bride  of  Christ,'  he  calls  the 
mother  'Socrus  Dei,'  the  mothtr- 
in-law  of  God.  See.  too,  the  ex- 
travagant flatteries  of  Chrysostom 
in  his  correspondence  with  Olym- 
pirts. 

'  '  Pudet  dicere  .eacerdotes  ido- 
lorum,  mimi  et  aurigse  et  scorta 
hsereiiitatcs  capiunt ;  soiis  cleri- 
cis  et  monachis  hoc  lege  pro- 
hibetur,  et  prohibetur  non  a  perse- 
cutoribus,  sed  a  principibiis  Chris- 
tianis.  Ncc  de  lege  concjueror  sed 
doleo  cur  meruerimus  l-.anc  legem.' 
Ep.  lii. 

*  See  Milman's  Hist,  of  Early 
Chri.<iiia!iiti/,  vol.  ii.  p.  314. 

'  This  was  one  cjiuso  of  the 
disputes  between  St.  Gregory  the 
Great  and  tlio  Emperor  Eustace. 
St.  Chrysostom  frequently  notices 
the  opposition  of  the  militiiry  and 
the  mouasiic  spirits. 


162  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Noble  ladies,  pretending  a  desire  to  lead  a  higher  life,  aban- 
doned their  husbands  to  live  with  low-born  lovers.'     Pales- 
tine, which  was  soon  crowded  with  pilgi-ims,   had  become, 
in  the  time  of  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa,  a  hotbed  of  debauchery.' 
The  evil  reputation  of  pilgrimages  long  continued ;  and  in 
the  eighth  centm-y  we  find  St.  Boniface  writing  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury,  imploring  the  bishops  to  take  some 
measures  to  restrain  or  regulate  the   pilgrimages   of  their 
fellow-countrywomen ;  for  there  were  few  towns  in  central 
Europe,  on  the  way  to  Eome,  where  English  ladies,  who 
started  as  pilgi-ims,  were  not  living  in  open  prostitution. ^ 
The  luxury  and  ambition  of  the  higher  prelates,  and  the  pas- 
sion for  amusements  of  the  inferior  priests,*  were  bitterly 
acknowledged.     St.  Jerome  complained  that  the  banquets  of 
many  bishops  eclipsed  in  splendour  those  of  the  provincial 
governors,  and  the  intrigues  by  which  they  obtained  offices, 
and  the  fierce  partisanship  of  their  supportei-s,  appear  in  every 
page  of  ecclesiastical  history. 

In  the  lay  world,  perhaps  the  chief  characteristic  was  ex- 
treme childishness.  The  moral  enthusiasm  was  greater  than 
it  had  been  in  most  periods  of  Paganism,  but,  being  drawn 
away  to  the  desert,  it  had  little  influence  upon  society.     The 

'  HieroD.  Ep.  cxxviii.  aliquod    levamentum    turpitudinis 

''■  St.    Greg.    Nyss.    Ad     envd.  esset,    si    prohi  beret    synodus    et 

Hieros.  '    Some    Catholic    writers  principos  vestri  mulieribiis  et  ve- 

have    attempted   to    throw    doubt  latis  f.minis   illnd   iter  et  froqiien- 

upon  the  genuineness  of  this  epistle,  tiam,  qnam  ad  Eomanani  civitatem 

but  Dean  Milman  thinks,  with  no  veniendoet  redeundo  faciunt,  quia 

8uffi>-ient   reason.     Its   account  of  magna    ex    p:.rte    percunt.    pauei« 

.IcniKak'm  is  to  some  extent  corro-  romeantibus   intogns.      Pcrpaucae 

boratod  by  St.  Jerome.     {Ad  Pauli-  enirn  sunt  civitatcs  in  Lnngobardia 

vum,  Rp.xx\x.)  vel  in  Franca  ant  u,  Gall.a  in  qua 

>  '  Pratfrea  non  taceo  charitati  non  sit  adultera  v.-l  meret  nx  gcne- 

vcstr,T,  quia  omnibus  scrvis  Dei  qui  ris  Anj-lorum,  quod  scaudalum  est 

hicvelinScripturavelintimoreDci  et  turpitudo   totuis    ecclesiffi  vee- 

probatissimicssovidentur.displicct  trae.'- (A.D^74r))  Ap.  Ixui. 

quod  bonum  et  honestas  et  pudici-  *  See    M.lman  s    Latin    Chr,» 

tia   vestrae   ecciosiie   illuditur;    et  CwJii/^,  vol.  u.  p.  8. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  153 

fiimple  fjict  that  the  quarrels  between  the  factions  of  the 
chariot  races  for  a  long  period  eclipsed  all  political,  intellec- 
tual, and  even  religious  differences,  filled  the  streets  again 
and  again  with  bloodshed,  and  more  than  once  determined 
great  revolutions  in  the  State,  is  sufl&cient  to  show  the  extent 
of  the  decadence.  Patriotism  and  courage  had  almost  disap- 
peared, and,  notwithstanding  the  rise  of  a  Belisarius  or  a 
Narses,  the  level  of  public  men  was  extremely  depressed. 
The  luxmy  of  the  court,  the  servility  of  the  corn-tiers,  and  the 
prevailing  splendour  of  dress  and  of  ornament,  had  attained  an 
extravagant  height.  The  world  grew  accustomed  to  a  dan- 
gerous alternation  of  extreme  asceticism  and  gi-oss  vice,  and 
sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Antioch,^  the  most  vicious  and 
luxm-ious  cities  produced  the  most  numerous  anchorites. 
There  existed  a  combination  of  vice  and  supei-stition  which  is 
eminently  prejudicial  to  the  nobility,  though  not  equally  de- 
trimental to  the  happiness,  of  man.  Public  opinion  was  so 
low,  that  very  many  forms  of  vice  attracted  little  condemna- 
tion and  punishment,  while  undoubted  behef  in  the  absolving 
efficacy  of  superstitious  rites  calmed  the  imagination  and 
allayed  the  ten-ors  of  conscience.  There  was  more  false- 
hood and  treachery  than  under  the  Cnesars,  but  there  was 
much  less  ciiielty,  violence,  and  shamelessuess.  There  was 
also  less  public  spiiit,  less  independence  of  character,  less 
intellectual  freedom. 

In  some  respects,  however,  Christianity  had  already 
effected  a  gi-eat  improvement.  The  gladiatorial  games  had 
disajipeared  from  the  "West,  and  had  not  been  introduced 
into  Constantinople.  The  vast  schools  of  prostitution  which 
had  gi'own  up  under  the  name  of  temples  of  Venus  were  stip- 
pi'cssed.  Religion,  however  deformed  and  debased,  was  at 
least  no  longer  a  seedplot  of  depx-avity,  and  undti  the  iji- 
fluence  of  Christianity  the  efli-ontery  of  vice  had  in  a  great 


•  Tillemont,  Hist.  eccl.  tome  li.  p.  547. 


154  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

measiu-e  disappeared.     The  gross  and  extravagant  indecency 
of  representation,  of  which  we  have  still  examples  in  the 
paiatings  on  the  walls,  and  the  signs  on  many  of  the  portals 
of  Pompeii ;  the  banquets  of  rich  patricians,  served  by  nakc-d 
gh  Is ;  the  hideous  excesses  of  unnatural  lust,  in  which  somo 
of  the  Pagan  emperors  had  indulged  with  so  much  publicity, 
were  no  longer  tolerated.     Although   sensuality  was  very 
general,  it  was  less  obtrusive,  and  unnatural  and  eccentric 
forms  had  become  rare.     The  presence  of  a  gi-eat  Church, 
which,  amid  much  superstition  and  fanaticism,  still  taught  a 
pure  morality,  and  enforced  it  by  the  strongest  motives,  was 
everywhere  felt— controlling,  strengthening,   or  overawing. 
The  ecclesiastics  were  a  gi-eat  body  ia  the  State.     The  cause 
of  virtue  was  strongly  organised ;  it  drew  to  itself  the  best 
men,  determined  the  course  of  vacillatuig  but  amiable  na- 
tures, and  placed  some  restraint  upon  the  vicious.      A  bad 
man  might  be  insensible  to  the  moral  beauties  of  religion, 
but  he  was  still  haunted  by  the  recollection  of  its  threaten- 
ings.     If  he  emancipated  himself  from  its  influence  in  health 
and  prosperity,  its  power  returned  in  periods  of  sickness  or 
danger,  or  on  the  eve  of  the  commission  of  some  great  crime. 
If  he  had  nerved  himself  against  all  its  terrors,  he  was  at  least 
checked  and  governed  at  every  turn  by  the  public  opinion 
which  it  had  created.     That  total  absence  of  all  restraint, 
all  decency,  and  all  fear  and  remorse,  which  had  been  evinced 
by  some  of  the  monsters  of  crime  who  occupied  the  Pagan 
throne,  and  which  proves  most  strikingly  the  decay  of  the 
Pagan  religion,  was  no  longer  possible.     The  virtue  of  the 
best  Pagans  was  perhaps  of  as  high  an  order  as  that  of  the 
best  Christians,  though  it  was  of  a  somewhat  different  type, 
hnt  the  vice  of  the  worst  Pagans  certainly  far  exceeded  that 
of  the  worst  Christians.     The  pulpit  had  become  a  powerful 
centre  of  attraction,  and  chai-ities  of  many  kinds  were  actively 
developed. 

Tlie  moral  effects  of  the  first  gi-eat  outburst  of  asceticisjn 


FROM    CONSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  155 

SO  far  as  we  have  yet  traced  tliem,  appear  almost  unmingled 
evils.  In  addition  to  the  essentially  distorted  ideal  of  perfec- 
tion it  produced,  the  simple  withdrawal  from  active  life  of 
that  moral  enthusiasm,  which  is  the  leaven  of  society,  was 
exti-emely  pernicious,  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  to 
this  cause  we  must  in  a  great  degree  attribute  the  conspicuous 
failure  of  the  Chui-ch,  for  some  centuries,  to  effect  any  more 
considerable  amelioration  in  the  moial  condition  of  Europe. 
There  were,  however,  some  distinctive  excellences  springing 
even  from  the  first  phase  of  asceticism,  which,  although  they 
do  not,  as  I  conceive,  suffice  to  counterbalance  these  evils, 
may  justly  qualify  our  censure. 

The  fii-st  condition  of  all  really  great  moi'al  excellence  is 
a  spii-it  of  genuine  self-sacrifice  and  self-renunciation.  The 
habits  of  compromise,  moderation,  reciprocal  self-resti-aint, 
gentleness,  courtesy,  and  refinement,  which  are  appropriate 
to  luxurious  or  utilitarian  civilisations,  are  very  favourable 
to  the  development  of  many  secondary  vii-tues ;  but  there  is  in 
human  nature  a  capacity  for  a  higher  and  more  heroic  reach 
of  excellence,  which  demands  very  different  spheres  for  its 
display,  accustoms  men  to  far  nobler  aims,  and  exercises  a 
far  greater  attractive  influence  upon  mankind.  Imperfet^t 
and  distorted  as  was  the  ideal  of  the  anchorite ;  deeply,  tfjo, 
as  it  was  perverted  by  the  admixture  of  a  spuitual  selfisli- 
ness,  still  the  example  of  many  thousands,  who,  in  obedience 
bo  what  they  believed  to  be  right,  voluntarily  gave  up  every 
thing  that  men  hold  dear,  cast  to  the  winds  every  compro- 
mise with  enjoyment,  and  made  extreme  self-abnegation  the 
very  piinciple  of  theii-  lives,  was  not  wholly  lost  upon  the 
world.  At  a  time  when  increasing  riches  had  profound  1\ 
tauited  the  Chm-ch,  they  taught  men  *  to  love  labour  moiv 
than  rest,  and  ignominy  more  than  glory,  and  to  give  more  thni; 
l-o  receive.''     At  a  time  when  the  passion  for  ecclesiastical 

'  Tills  was  enjdintd  in  the  rule  of  St.  Paphnutius.     See  Tillenioii'. 
l/;iue  X.  p.  4o. 


156  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

dignities  had  become  the  scandal  of  the  Empii-e,  they  system- 
atically abstained  from  them,  teaching,  in  their  quaint  but 
energetic  language,  that  '  there  are  two  classes  a  monk  should 
especially  avoid — bishops  and  women.''  The  very  eccen- 
tricities of  then-  lives,  their  imcouth  forms,  their  horrible 
penances,  won  the  admiration  of  rude  men,  and  the  supersti- 
tious reverence  thus  excited  gradually  passed  to  the  charity 
and  the  self-denial  which  formed  the  higher  elements  of  the 
monastic  character.  Multitudes  of  barbarians  were  converted 
to  Christianity  at  the  sight  of  St.  Simeon  Stylites.  The  hermit, 
too,  was  speedily  idealised  by  the  popular  imagination.  The 
more  repulsive  features  of  his  life  and  appearance  were  forgot- 
ten. He  was  thought  of  only  as  an  old  man  with  long  white 
b<^ard  and  gentle  aspect,  weaving  his  mats  beneath  the  palm- 
trees,  while  daemons  vainly  tried  to  distract  him  by  their  strata- 
gems, and  the  wild  beasts  gi-ew  tame  ia  his  presence,  and  every 
ilisease  and  every  soitow  vanished  at  his  word.  The  imagi- 
nation of  Christendom,  fascinated  by  tliis  ideal,  made  it  the 
centre  of  countless  legends,  usually  very  cluldish,  and  occa- 
sionally, as  we  have  seen,  worse  than  childish,  yet  full  of 
beautiful  touches  of  human  nature,  and  often  conveying  ad- 
mii-able  moral  lessons.^  Nui-sery  tales,  which  first  determine 
the  course  of  the  infant  imagination,  play  no  inconsiderable 
part  in  the  histoiy  of  humanity.     In  the  fable  of  Psyche — 

*  'Omni modi's  moiiachiim  fii-  (HflTprcut  to  tho  stato  of  oxcom- 
gere  debero  muliercs  ot  cpiscopos.'  imiiiioation,  while  old  men  feel 
--Cassian,  Be  C'oenoh.  Inst.  xi.  17-  continually,  and  acutely,  tho  seprv- 

*  Wo  also  find  now  and  then,  ration.  (SucTiites,  iv.  23.)  St. 
thou<?h  I  tlnnk  very  rarely,  intel-  A pollonius  explained  the  E^^yptian 
lectnal  flashes  of  some  brillianey.  idolatry  with  the  most  intoUij^cnt 
Two  of  them  strike  me  as  especially  rationalism.  'I'ho  ox,  ho  thonght. 
noteworthy.  St.  Arseni us  refused  was  in  the  first  instunco  worshipped 
to  separate  younp;  criminals  from  for  its  domestic  uses;  the  Nile, 
ccinmunion  th<juf,di  ho  had  no  bocause  it  was  the  cliief  cause  of 
iiesitation  about  old  men;  for  he  the  fertility  of  tho  soil,  &c.  (Ru 
had  observed  that  young  men  finus,  IlUi.  Mon.  cap.  vii.) 
■peedily   get    accustomed   and   in- 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  157 

that  bright  tale  of  passionate  love  with  which  the  (ireek 
mother  lulled  her  child   to  rest — Pagan  antiquity  has  be- 
queathed lis  a  single  specimen  of  ti-anscendent  beauty,  and  the 
lives  of  the  saints  of  the  desert  often  exhibit  an  imagination 
different  indeed  in  kind,  but  scarcely  less  brilliant  in  its  dis- 
[ilay.    St.  Antony,  we  are  told,  was  thinking  one  night  that 
he  was  the  best  man  in  the  desert,  when  it  was  revealed  to 
him  that  there  was  another  hermit  far  holier  than  himself.    In 
the  morning  he  started  across  the  desert  to  visit  this  unknown 
Baint.     He  met  fii'st  of  all  a  centam*,  and  afterwards  a  little 
man  with  honis  and  goat's  feet,  who  said  that  he  was  a  faun  ; 
and  these,  having  pointed  out  the  way,  he  arrived  at  last  at 
his  destination.    St.  Paul  the  hermit,  at  whose  cell  he  stopped, 
was  one  hundred  and  thii-teen  years  old,  and,  having  been 
living  for  a  very  long  period  in  absolute  solitude,  he  at  fii-st 
i-efused  to  admit  the  idsitor,  but  at  last  consented,  embi-aced 
him,  and  began,  with  a  very  pardonable  curiosity,  to  question 
him  miniitely  about  the  world  he  had  left ;  '  whether  there 
was  much  new  builduig  in  the  towns,  what  empire  ruled  the 
world,  whether  there  were  any  idolaters  remaiuingr     The 
colloquy  was  interi'upted  by  a  crow,  which  came  with  a  loaf 
of  bread,  and  St.  Paul,  observing  that  during  the  last  sixty 
years  his  daily  allowance  had  been  only  half  a  loaf,  declared 
that  this  was  a  proof  that  he  had  done  right  in  admitting 
Antony,     Tlie  hermits  retm-ned  thanks,  and  sat  down  to- 
gether by  the  margin  of  a  glassy  stream.     But  now  a  diffi- 
culty arose.     Neither  could  bring  himself  to  break  the  loaf 
before  the  other.     St.  Paul  alleged  that  St.  Antony,  being 
liis  guest,  should  take  the  precedence ;  but  St.  Antony,  who 
was  only  ninety  years  old,  dwelt  upon  the  greater  age  of  St. 
Paul.     So  scrupulously  polite  were  these  old  men,  that  they 
jmssed  the  entii-e  afternoon  disputing  on  this  weighty  ques- 
tion, till  at  last,  when  the  evening  was  drawing  in,  a  hajipy 
thought  struck  tliem,  and,  each  holding  one  end  of  the  loaf, 
they  pulled  togethe)-.     To  abridge  the  stoiy,  St.  Paul  soon 


158  HISTORY    OF    EDROPEAN    MORAL?. 

died,  and  his  companion,  being  a  weak  old  man,  was  imable 
to  bury  him,  when  two  lions  came  from  the  desei-t  and  dug 
the  giuve  with  their  paws,  deposited  the  body  in  it,  raised  a 
loud  howl  of  lamentation,  and  then  knelt  down  submissively 
before  St.  Antony,  to  beg  a  blessing.  The  authority  for  this 
history  is  no  less  a  person  than  St.  Jerome,  who  relates  it  as 
literally  tiiie,  and  intersperses  his  narrative  with  severe 
i-eflections  on  all  who  might  question  his  accui-acy. 

The  historian  Palladius  assures  us  that  he  heard  from 
the  lips  of  St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria  an  account  of  a  pil- 
grimage wliich  that  saint  had  made,  under  the  impulse   of 
curiosity,  to  visit  the  enchanted  garden  of  Jannes  and  Jam- 
bres,  tenanted  by  daemons.  For  nine  days  Macaiius  traversed 
the  desert,  directing  his  course  by  the  stai-s,  and,  from  time 
to  time,  fixing  reeds  in  the  ground,  as  landmarks  for  his 
i-eturn  ;  but  this  precaution  proved   useless,  for  the  devils 
tore  up  the  reeds,  and  placed  them  during  the  night  by  the 
head  of  the  sleeping  saint.     As  he  drew  near  the  garden, 
seventy  demons  of  various  forms  came  forth  to  meet  Mm, 
and  reproached  him  for  disturbing  them  in  their  home.      St. 
Macarius  promised  simply  to  walk  round   and   inspect  the 
wonders  of  the  garden,  and  then  depart  without  domg  it 
any  injury.  He  fulfilled  liis  promise,  and  a  journey  of  twenty 
days   brought  him  again  to  his  cell.'      Other  legends  are, 
however,  of  a  loss  fantastic  nature  ;    and   many  of  them 
display,  though  sometimes  in  very  whimsical  forms,  a  spirit 
of  courtesy  which  seems  to  foreshadow  the  later  chivalry, 
and  some  of  them  contain  striking  protests  against  the  very 
superstitions  that  were  most  prevalent.     When  St.  Macanus 
was  sick,  a  bunch  of  grapes  was  once  given  to  him;  but  his 
charity  impelled  him  to  give  them  to  another  hermit,  who  in 
hb;  turn  refused  to  keep  them,  an<l  at  last,  having  made  the 
circuit  of  the  CDtii-e  desert,  they  were  returned  to  the  saint.-' 
'  rullidiufl.    Tltst.    Laus.    cap.  *  Rufinus.   Hist.  Monach.  ca^ 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE    TO    CII AliLEMAGNE.  159 

TLe  same  saint,  whose  usual  beverage  was  putrid  water, 
never  failed  to  drink  wine  when  set  before  him  by  the 
hermits  he  visited,  atoning  privately  for  this  relaxation, 
which  he  thought  the  laws  of  courtesy  required,  by  ab 
staining  fiom  water  for  as  many  days  as  he  had  drunli 
fjlasses  of  wine.^  One  of  his  disciples  once  meeting  an 
idolatrous  priest  running  in  great  haste  across  the  desert, 
with  a  great  stick  in  his  hand,  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice, 
'  Where  are  you  going,  daemon  ] '  The  priest,  naturally 
indignant,  beat  the  Chi'istian  severely,  and  was  proceeding 
on  his  way,  when  he  met  St.  Macarius,  who  accosted  him 
so  courteously  and  so  tenderly  that  the  Pagan's  heart  was 
touched,  he  became  a  convert,  and  his  first  act  of  charity 
was  to  tend  the  Christian  whom  he  had  beaten.^  St.  Avitus 
being  on  a  visit  to  St.  Marcian,  this  latter  saint  placed  before 
him  some  bread,  which  Avitus  refused  to  eat,  saying  that 
it  was  his  custom  never  to  touch  food  till  after  sunset.  St. 
Marcian,  professing  his  own  inability  to  defer  his  repast, 
implored  his  guest  for  once  to  break  this  custom,  and  being 
refu.sed,  exclaimed,  '  Alas  !  I  am  filled  with  anguish  that  you 
have  come  here  to  see  a  wise  man  and  a  saint,  and  you  see 
only  a  glutton.'  St.  Avitus  was  grieved,  and  said,  '  he 
would  rather  even  eat  flesh  than  hear  such  woi-ds,'  and 
he  sat  down  as  desii-ed.  St.  Marcian  then  confessed  that  his 
own  custom  was  the  same  as  that  of  his  brother  saint ;  '  but,' 
he  added,  '  we  know  that  charity  is  better  than  fasting  ;  for 
charity  is  enjoined  by  the  Divine  law,  but  fosting  is  left  in 
our  owTi  power  and  will.'  ^  St.  Epiphauius  having  invited 
St.  Hilarius  to  his  cell,  placed  before  liim  a  dish  of  fowl. 
'  Pardon  me,  father,'  said  St.  Hilarius,  '  but  since  I  have 
become  a  monk  I  have  never  eaten  flesh.'  '  And  I,'  said  St. 
F-piphanius,  '  since  I  have  become  a  moiak  have  never  suffered 


'  Tillcmont,    Hist,   eccl,    tome  "  H'iil.  p.  SSQ. 

'oii.  pp.  683,584.  '  ihcodoret,  I'hUMh.  cap.  iii. 


160  IlISTORT    OF    EUEOPEAN    MORALS. 

the  sun  to  go  down  upon  my  wrath.'     '  Your  rule,'  rejoined 
the  other,  '  is  more  excellent  than  mine.' '    While  a  rich  lady 
was  courteously  fulfilling  the  duties  of  hospitality  to  a  monk, 
her  child,  whom  she  had  for  this  purpose  left,  fell  into  a  well. 
It  lay  imh&rmed  upon  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  after- 
wards told  its  mother  that  it  had  seen  the  arms  of  the  samt 
sustaining  it  below.^      At  a  time  when  it  was  the  custom  to 
look  upon  the  marriage  state  with  profound  contempt,  it  was 
revealed  to  St.  Macarius  of  Egypt  that  two  married  women 
In  a  neighboui-ing  city  were  more  holy  than  he  was.     The 
saint  immediately  visited  them,   and   asked  their  mode  of 
life,  but  they  utterly  repudiated  the  notion  of  their  sanctity. 
'  Holy  father,'  they  said,  '  sufter  us  to  tell  you  frankly  the 
ti-uth.    Even  this  very  night  we  did  net  shrink  from  sleeping 
with  our   husbands,   and  what  good  works,  then,  can  you 
expect  from  us  1 '     The  saint,  however,  persisted  in  his  in- 
quiries, and  they  then  told  him  their  stories.    '  We  are,'  they 
sa.id,  •  m  no  way  related,  but  we  married  two  brothei-s.     We 
have  lived  together  for  fifteen  years,  without  one  licentious 
or  anory  word.     We  have  entreated  our  husbands  to  let  us 
leave  them,  to  join  the  societies  of  holy  virgins,  but  they 
refused  to  permit  us,  and  we  then  promised  before  Heaven 
that  no  worldly  word  should  sully  our  lips.'     *  Of  a  truth,' 
cried  St.  Macarins,  '  I  see  that  God  regaids  not  whether  one 
is  virgin  or  manied,  whether  one  is  in  a  monastery  or  in  the 
world.      He  considers  only  the  disposition  of  the  heart,  and 
gives  the  Spuit  to  all  who  desire  to  serve  Him,  whatever 
their  condition  may  be.'  •* 

I  have  multiplied  these  illustrations  to  an  extent  that 
must,  I  fear,  have  already  somewhat  taxed  the  i)atience  of 
my  readei-s  ;  but  the  fact  that,  during  a  long  period  of  history, 
these  s:imtly  legends  formed  the  ideals  guiding  the  imagina- 

'    Ve-ha  Seniorum.  '  Tilleniont,  toiae  viii.  pp.  594, 

•  Tbeodorcl,  Philoih.  cap.  ii.         o96. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CIIAELEMAGNE.  161 

tion  and  reflecting  the  moral  sentiment  of  the  Christian 
world,  gives  them  an  importance  far  beyond  their  intrinsic 
value.  Before  dismissing  the  saints  of  the  desert,  there  is 
one  other  class  of  legends  to  which  I  desire  to  advert.  I 
mean  those  which  describe  the  connection  between  saints 
and  the  animal  world.  These  legends  are,  I  think,  worthy  oi 
special  notice  in  moral  history,  as  representing  the  first, 
and  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  most  striking  efforts  eve." 
made  in  Chi'istendom  to  inculcate  a  feeling  of  kindness  and 
pity  towards  the  brute  creation.  In  Pagan  antiquity,  con- 
siderable steps  had  been  made  to  raise  this  form  of  humanity 
to  a  recognised  branch  of  ethics.  The  way  had  been  pre 
pared  by  numerous  anecdotes  growing  for  the  most  part 
out  of  simple  ignorance  of  natural  history,  which  all  tended 
to  diminish  the  chasm  between  men  and  animals,  by  repre- 
senting the  latter  as  possessing  to  a  very  high  degree  both 
moral  and  rational  qualities.  Elephants,  it  was  believed, 
were  endowed  not  only  with  reason  and  benevolence,  but 
also  with  reverential  feelings.  They  worshipped  the  sun  and 
moon,  and  in  the  forests  of  Mauritania  they  were  accustomed 
to  assemble  every  new  moon,  at  a  certain  river,  to  perfoim 
religious  rites.'  The  hippopotamus  taught  men  the  medicinal 
value  of  bleeding,  being  accustomed,  when  affected  by  ple- 
thory,  to  bleed  itself  with  a  thorn,  and  afterwards  close  the 
wound  with  slime.^  Pelicans  committed  suicide  to  feed  their 
young ;  and  bees,  when  they  had  broken  the  laws  of  their 
sovereign.'  A  temple  was  erected  at  Sestos  to  commemorate 
the  affection  of  an  eagle  which  loved  a  young  girl,  and  upon 
her  death  cast  itself  in  despair  into  the  flames  by  which  hex 
body  was  consumed.*      Numerous  anecdotes  are  related  of 

'  Pliny,     Hist.     Kai.    viii.     1.  This  habit  of  be  s  is  montiontd  bj 

Many  anecdotes  of  elephants  are  St.  Ambrose.     The  pelican,  as.  in 

C'llpcted    viii.    1-12.       Sec,    t  o,  ■well  known,  afterwards  became  au 

Dion  Cassius,  xxxix.  38.  emblem  of  Christ. 

=*  Pliny,  viii.  40.  *  Plin.  Hist.  Nat.  i.  6. 

•  Douue's  Biatkanatot,   p.    22. 


/62  TTISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

faithful  dogs  which  refused  to  survive  their  masters,  and  ono 
of  these  had,  it  was  said,  been  transiormed  into  the  dog-star.  > 
The  dolphin,  especially,  became  the  subject  of  many  beautifid 
legends,  and  its  affection  for  its  young,  for  music,  and  above 
all  for  little  children,  excited  the  admiration  not  only  of  the 
poimlace,  but  of  the  most  distinguished  naturalists.'-^  Many 
philosophers  ascribed  to  animals  a  rational  soul,  Uke  that  of 
man.  According  to  the  Pythagoreans,  human  souls  transmi- 
grate after  death  into  animals.  According  to  the  Stoics  and 
others,  the  souls  of  men  and  animals  were  alike  parts  of  the 
all-pervading  Divine  Spirit  that  animates  the  world.^ 

We  may  even  find  traces  from  an  early  period  of  a  certain 
measure  of  legislative  protection  for  animals.      By  a  very 
natural  process,  the  ox,  as  a  principal  agent  in  agriculture, 
and  therefore  a  kind  of  symbol  of  civilisation,  was  m  many 
different  countries  regarded  with  a  peculiar  reverence.      The 
sanctity  attached  to  it  in  Egypt  is  well  known.    That  tender- 
ness to  animals,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  features 
in  the  Old  Testament  writings,  shows  itself,  among  other 
ways,  in  the  command  not  to  muzzle  the  ox  that  treadeth  out 
the  corn,  or  to  yoke  together  the  ox  and  the  ass."     Among 
the  early  Romans  the  same  feeling  was  carried  so  far,  that 
for  a  long  time  it  was  actually  a  capital  offence  to  slaughter 
an  ox,  that  animal  being  pronounced,  in  a  special  sense,  the 

'  \  long  list  of  legends  ahont  mndcrn  philosophers,  _  concerning 
docs  it  Svf n  by  Legendre.  in  the  the  sc.uls  of  an.n»ds  is  given  by 
v"?;curfous  chapter  on  anin^als,  in     Bnylo.    i^/.^     arls.     '  Pere.ra    L. 

^•%S%t''   '''''"""'  '""    '■■  '''-iTeWshlawdid   notcon- 

^^^■' Pliny    tells    some    extremely  fmo  its  caro   to  oxen      1, ho  reader 

nrettv  sL-ries   of  this  kind.   (Hist,  will  remember  the   touching   pro- 

pretty  Btoruso  ^^^^^^  ^.^.^^^^  .,^,,^^^^^  ^^\^r}]'  T 

Geiiusxvi     0.     Th;  dolphin,  on  kid   in  his  mother  .s  m,k.  (Dout 

aeco     tof  its  love  for  i.s' young,  xiv.  21)  ;  and  tl-^  forbid- Ung 

becMmo  a  common  symbol  of  Christ  men  to  take  a  pnrent  bu'd  that  ^aa 

.monTlho  early  Clu-istianB.  sitting  on  its  young  or  on  it.  eggs 

»  .A    very    lull   aixonnt  of  the.  (Dont.  xxii. '>,/.) 
opinions,    both     of    ancient     and 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  1  G3 

fellow-labourer  of  ruan.'  A  similar  law  is  said  to  have  in 
early  times  existed  in  Greece.^  The  beautiful  passage  in  which 
the  Psalmist  describes  how  the  sparrow  could  find  a  shelter 
and  a  home  in  the  altar  of  the  temple,  was  as  applicable  to 
(>reece  as  to  Jerusalem.  The  sentiment  of  Xenocrates  who, 
when  a  bird  pursued  by  a  hawk  took  ref  ge  in  his  breast, 
caressed  and  finally  released  it,  saying  to  his  disciples,  that  a 
good  man  should  never  give  up  a  suppliant,^  was  believed  to 
be  shared  by  the  gods,  and  it  was  regarded  as  an  act  of  im- 
piety to  disturb  the  birds  who  had  built  their  nests  beneath 
the  porticoes  of  the  temple.'*  A  case  is  related  of  a  child  who 
was  even  put  to  death  on  account  of  an  act  of  aggravated 
cruelty  to  birds.* 

The  general  tendency  of  nations,  as  they  advance  fi-om 
1  rude  and  warlike  to  a  lefined  and  peaceful  condition,  from 
the  stage  in  which  the  realising  powers  are  fiiint  and  dull,  to 
that  in  which  they  are  sensitive  and  vivid,  is  undoubtedly  to 
become  more  gentle  and  humane  in  their  actions ;  but  this, 
like  all  other  general  tendencies  in  histoiy,  may  be  counter- 
acted or  modified  by  many  sjjecial  circumstances.     The  law  I 

'  '  Cujus  tanta  fuit  apud  .anti-  at  Miletus  about  a  suppliant  -wlio 

quos  veneratio,  ut  tarn  capital  esset  had  taken  refuge  witli  the  Cyniaeans 

bovem    necuisse    quam    civem.' —  and  was  demanded  with  menace  by 

Columella,  lib.  vi.  in  prooem.    '  Ilic  his   enemies.     The    oracle,    being 

socius  hominum  in  rustico  opere  et  bribed,    enjoined    the     surrender. 

Cereris  minister.     Ab  hoc  antiqui  The  ambassador  on   leaving,  with 

manus  ita  abstinere  voluerunt  ut  seeming  carelessness  disturbed  the 

capite  sanxerint  si  quis  occidisset.'  spiirrows  under  the  portico  of  the 

—  V'arro,  Dc  Keliuslic.  lib.  ii.  cap.  temple,  when  the  voice  from  behind 

v.  the  altar  denounced  iiis  impiety  for 

^  See  Logendre,  tome  ii.  p.  3.S8.  disturbing  the  guests  of  the  gofl.«. 

The  sword  with  which  the  priest  The  ambassador  replied  with  an  ob- 

saerificed    the    ox  was   afterwards  vious  and  withering  retnrt.    .iElian 

pronounced      accursed.       (/TZlian,  says  (///,s<.  /'or.)  tiiat  the  .4thonians 

Hist.  Var.  lib.  viii.  cap.  iii.)  condemned  to  death  a  boy  for  kill- 

'  Diog.  Laert.  Xenoa'ates.  ing    a    sparrow    tliat    had    taken 

*  There    is    a    story   told    by  refuge    in    the    temple  of  ^soula 

nci'odotus  (i.  157-159)  of  an  am-  plus. 

bassador  who  was  sent  by  his  ff  1-  *  Quintilian,  Inst.  v.  9. 
'.ow-couutrymen  to  consult  an  oracle 


[(54  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

have  inentiouecl  about  oxen  was  obviously  one  of  those  that 
belong  to  a  very  early  stage  of  progress,  when  legislators  are 
labouriug  to  form  agricultural  habits  among  a  warlike  and 
nomadic  people.  ^      The  games  in  wMch  the  slaughter  of 
animals  bore  so  large  a  part,  having  been  introduced  but  a 
little  before  the  extinction  of  the  republic,  did  very  much  to 
arrest  or  retard  the  natural  progress  of  humane  sentiments. 
In  ancient  Greece,  besides  the  bull-fights  of  Thessaly,  the 
combats  of  quails  and  cocks  ^  were  favourite  amusements, 
and  were  much  encouraged  by  the  legislators,  as  furnishing 
examples  of  valour  to  the  soldiers.     The  colossal  cUmensions 
of  the  Roman  games,  the  circumstances  that  favoured  them 
and  the  overwhelming  interest  they  speedily  excited,  I  have 
described  in  a  former  chapter.    We  have  seen,  however,  that, 
notwithstanding   the   gladiatorial    shows,   the    standard    of 
humanity  towards  men  was  considerably  raised  during  the 
Empii-e.  It  is  also  well  worthy  of  notice  that,  notwithstanding 

'  In  the    same   -way  we    find  had  been  famous  for  his  skill  in  it. 

several  chapters  in  the  Zen  da  ves  fa  (Strntt's    Sports   and  Pastimes,  p. 

about  the  criminality  of  injuring  283.)     Three    origins    of    it   have 

dogs;  ^vhich   is   explained   by  tlie  been     given -.-Ist     that     in    the 

great    importance    of     shepherd's  Damsh  wars  the  Saxons  failed  to 

dogs  to  a  pastoral  people.  surprise  a   certain   c,ty  in  consc- 

2  On  the  origin  of  Greek  cock-  quence   of  the   crowing  of  cocks, 

fiphtinsr  see  iRlian,  Hc^t.  Vor.  ii.  and   had   in  consequence   a    great 

28      S£ny  particulars  about  it  are  hatred  of  that  bird  ;  2nd,  that  the 

given   by   Athenaeus.     Chrysippus  cooks   {galli)  ■^^■^v^   special  repre- 

maintained  that  cock-fighting  was  sentatn-es     of    Irenchmen      with 

tlie  final  cause  of  cocks,  these  birds  wliom  the  English  were  constantly 

b    ng  made  by  Providence  in  order  at  war  ;  and  3rd    that  they  wei-e 

\o  inspire  us  by  the  example  of  connected  witb  the  denial  of   St. 

their  courage.  (Plutarch. /).7?./>.,^.  Peter.      As    S.r    Charles    Sedley 

Stoic.)     The  Greeks  do  not,  how-  said:  — 

ever,  appear  to  have  known  '  cock-  •  i    i   f  „  o, 

throwiiig.'  the   favourite    English  '  ^lay-st  thou  be  punished  for  St. 

came  of  throwing  a  stick  called  a  Peters  crime, 

^rck-H.ick  •  at  clocks.      It  was  a  And  on  Shrove  Tuesday  perish  in 

very    ancient    and    very    popular  thy  prime 

amusement,    and    was     practised  Knight's  Old  EngUind,  vol.   n.  p 

especially  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  and  K6. 
by  school-boys.    Sir  Thomas  More 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHAELEMAGNE. 


165 


the  passion  for  the  combats  of  wild  beasts,  Roman  literatuie 
and  the  later  literature  of  the  nations  subject  to  Rome  abound 
in  delicate  touches  displaying  in  a  very  high  degree  a  sensi- 
tiveness to  the  feelings  of  the  animal  world.  This  tender 
interest  in  animal  life  is  one  of  the  most  distinctive  features 
of  the  poetry  of  Virgil.  Lucretius,  who  rarely  struck  the 
chords  of  pathos,  had  at  a  still  earher  period  drawn  a  very 
beautiful  picture  of  the  sorrows  of  the  bereaved  cow,  whose 
calf  had  been  sacrificed  upon  the  altar.'  Plutarch  mentions, 
incidentally,  that  he  could  never  bring  himself  to  sell,  in  its 
old  age,  the  ox  which  had  served  him  faithfully  in  the  time 
of  its  strength.^  Ovid  expressed  a  similar  sentiment  with  an 
almost  equal  emphasis.^  Juvenal  speaks  of  a  Roman  lady 
with  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  on  account  of  the  death  of  a 
sparrow.*  Apollonivis  of  Tyana,  on  the  ground  of  humanity, 
refused,  even  when  invited  by  a  king,  to  participate  in  the 
chase.'     Arrian,  the  friend  of  Epictetus,  in  his  book  upon 


'  Be  Nafura  Berinn,  lib.  ii. 

*  Life  of  Marc.  Cato. 

•  '  Quid  meruere  boves,  animal  sine 

fraude  dolisqiie, 
Innocuum,  simplex,  natum  tole- 

rare  labores  ? 
Immemor  est  demum  nee  fru- 

gum  munere  dignus. 
Qui  potuit  curvi  dempto  modo 

pondere  aratri 
Eiiricolam     mactare    suum.'  — 
Melamorph.  xv.  120-124. 
'  Cujus 
Turliavit  nitidos  extinctus  pas- 
ser occUos.' 

Juvenal,  Sat.  vi.  7-8. 

There  is  a  little  poem  in  Catullus 
(iii.")  to  console  his  mistress  upon 
the  death  of  her  fav  'Urite  sparrow  ; 
and  Martial  more  than  once  al- 
ludes to  the  pets  of  the  Roman 
ladies. 

43 


Compare  the  charming  de- 
scription of  the  Prioress,  in  Chau- 
cer:— 

'She  was   so    charitable    and    so 

pitous, 
She  wolde  wepe  if  that  she  saw  a 

mous 
Caugiit  in  a  trappe,  if  it  were  ded 

or  bleddo. 
Of  smale  houndes  had  she  tliat 

she  fedde 
With  rosted  flesh  and  milke  and 

wastel  brede, 
13ut  sore  wept  she  if  one  of  them 

■were  dede. 
Or  if  men  smote  it  with  a  yerde 

smert : 
And  all  was  conscience  and  tcndro 

herte.' 
Prvlogtie  to  the  '  Cantirbiiry  Tales 

*  Philost.  Apol.  i.  38. 


]66  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

oouraing,  anticipated  the  beautiful  picture  which  Addisou 
has  drawn  of  the  huntsman  refusing  to  sacrifice  the  life  of 
the  captured  hare  which  had  given  him  so  much  pleasiut^  in 
its  flight.  1 

These  touches  of  feeling,  slight  as  they  may  appear,  indi- 
eate,  I  think,  a  veiri  of  sentiment  such  as  we  should  scarcely 
have  expected  to  find  coexisting  with  the  gigantic  slaughter 
of  the  amphitheatre.    The  progress,  however,  was  not  only 
one  of  sentiment — it  was  also  shown  in  distinct  and  definite 
teaching.     Pythagoras  and  Empedocles  were  quoted  as  the 
founders  of  tliis  bi-anch  of  ethics.     The  moral  duty  of  kind- 
ness  to    animals  was    in   the   first   instmce  based  upon  a 
doomatlc  assertion  of  the  transmigration  of  souls,  and,  the 
doctrine  that  animals  are  within  the  cux;le  of  human  duty 
being  thus  laid  down,  subsidiary  considerations  of  humanity 
were  alleged.     The  rapid  gi'owth  of  the  Pythagorean  school, 
in  the  latter  days  of  the  Empire,  made  these  considerations 
familiar  to  the  people.^     Porphyry  elaborately  advocated, 
and  even  Seneca  for  a  time  practised,  abstinence  from  flesh. 
But  the  most  remarkable  figure  in  this  movement  is  unques- 
tionably Plutarch.     Casting  aside  ihe  dogma  of  transmigra- 
tion, or  at  least  speaking  of  it  only  as  a  doubtful  conjecture, 
he  places  the  duty  of  kindness  to  animals  on  the  browl  ground 
of  the  afiections,  and  he  urges  that  duty  with  an  em[jhasis 
and  a  detail  to  which  no  adequate  parallel  can,  I  believe,  be 
found  in  the  Christian  writings  for  at  least  seventeen  hundred 
years.  He  condemns  absolutely  the  games  of  the  amphithciitre, 


1  See  the  curious  chapter  in  his  I'.if^nns  of  t'e  third  contiiry  foil 
KM'r,7*T.K(5j,  xvi.  and  compara  it  a  Wit  animals.  Cd.sus  objected  to 
whh -So.  -WGmtho  S'pedator.  the  Chrifitian  doctrine  about   the 

2  In  iiis  Da  Abstincntia  Carnis.  position  of  men   in   the  universe, 
The  .-oiitroversy    between    OriRen  that  many  of  th.;  animals  wero  at 
ind   CelsuB   furnishes    us    wiih   a  least  the  equals  oi   men    both    lu 
very   curious    illustration    of    the  reason,  rolijjious  feeling,  and  know 
extravagances    into   which     some  ledge.     (Grip.  Cont.  C'cls.  lib.  iv.) 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  167 

dwells  with  great  force  upon  ihe  effect  of  such  spectacles  iii 
hardening  the  character,  enumerates  in  detail,  and  denounces 
with  unqualified  energy,  the  refined  ci-uelties  which  gastro- 
nomic fancies  had  produced,  and  asserts  in  the  strongest 
language  that  every  man  has  duties  to  the  animal  world  as 
truly  as  to  his  fellow-men.^ 

If  we  now  pass  to  the  Chiistian  Church,  we  shall  find 
that  little  or  no  progress  was  at  first  made  in  this  sphere. 
Among  the  Manicheans,  it  is  true,  the  mixture  of  Oriental 
notions  was  shown  in  an  absolute  prohibition  of  animal  food, 
and  abstinence  from  this  food  was  also  frequently  practised  upon 
totally  different  grounds  by  the  orthodox.  One  or  two  of  the 
Fathers  have  also  mentioned  with  approbation  the  humane 
counsels  of  the  Pythagoreans.  ^  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
doctrine  of  transmigration  was  emphatically  repudiated  by 
the  Catholics;  the  human  race  was  isolated,  by  the  scheme 
of  redemption,  more  than  ever  from  all  other  i-aces ;  and  in 
the  range  and  circle  of  duties  inculcated  by  the  early  Fathers 
those  to  animals  had  no  place.  This  is  indeed  the  one  form 
of  humanity  which  ai)pears  more  prominently  in  the  Old 
Testament  than  in  the  New.  The  many  beautiful  traces  of 
it  in  the  former,  which  indicate  a  sentiment,'  even  where 
they  do  not  very  strictly  define  a  duty,  gave  way  before  an 


'  These   views   are  chiefly  de-  writers  hare  been  remarkable  for 

fended  in  his  two  tracts  on  eating  the  groat  emphasis  with  which  they 

flesh.     Plutarch  has  also  recurred  inculcated  the  duty  of  kindness  to 

to  the  subject,  incident<ally,  in  seve-  animals.     See  some  passages  from 

ral  other  works,  especially  in  a  very  them,  cited  in  Wollastou,  lieligion 

beautiful   passage   in   his   Life  of  of  Nature,  sec.  ii.,  nute.     ftlaimo- 

Marcus  Cato.  nides  believed  in  a  future  life  for 

*  See,  for  example,  a  striking  animals,  to  recompense  them  for 
passage  in  Clem.  Alex.  5^ro;«.  lib.  their  suiferings  here.  (JiayXe,  Vict. 
li.  yt.  Clement  imagines  Pytha-  art,  'Rorarius  D.')  There  is  a 
goras  had  borrowed  his  sentiments  curious  collection  of  the  opinions 
an  this  subject  from  Moses.  of  different  writers  on  this  last  point 

*  There  is,  I  believe,  no  record  in  a  little  book  called  the  Rights 
if  any  wild  beast  combats  existing  of  Animals,  by  William  Druniraond 
among  the  Jews,  and  the  rabbinical  (London,  183S),  pp.  197-205. 


168  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

ardent  philanthropy  whicla  regarded  human  interests  as  the 
one  end,  and  the  relations  of  man  to  his  Creator  as  the  one 
question,  of  life,  and  dismissed  somewhat  contemptuously,  as 
an  idle  sentimentahsm,  notions  of  duty  to  animals.^  A  re- 
fined and  subtle  sympathy  with  animal  feeling  is  indeed 
I  arely  found  among  those  who  are  engaged  very  actively  in 
the  affairs  of  life,  and  it  was  not  without  a  meaning  or  a 
reason  that  Shakespeare  placed  that  exquisitely  pathetic 
analysis  of  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded  stag,  which  is  per- 
I'.aps  its  most  perfect  poetical  expression,  in  the  midst  of  the 
morbid  dreamings  of  the  diseased  and  melancholy  Jacques. 

But  while  what  are  called  the  rights  of  animals  had  no 
place  in  the  ethics  of  the  Church,  a  feeling  of  sympathy  with 
the  irrational  creation  was  in  some  degiee  inculcated  incU- 
rect'y  by  the  incidents  of  the  hagiology.  It  was  very  natural 
that  the  hermit,  living  in  the  lonely  desei-ts  of  the  East,  or  in 
the  vast  forests  of  Europe,  should  come  into  an  intimate  con- 
nection with  the  animal  world,  and  it  was  no  less  natural  that 
the  popular  imagination,  when  depicting  the  hermit  life, 
should  make  this  coruiection  the  centre  of  many  picturesque 
and  sometimes  touching  legends.  The  birds,  it  was  said, 
stooped  in  theii*  flight  at  the  old  man's  call ;  tho  lion  and  the 
hyerui  crouched  submissively  at  his  feet;  his  heart,  which 
was  closed  to  all  human  interests,  expanded  freely  at  the 
sight  of  some  suffering  animal ;  and  somcthjag  of  his  own 
sanctity  descended  to  the  companions  of  his  wlitude  and  the 
objects  of  his  mii-aclcs.  The  wild  boasts  attended  St.  Theon 
when  he  walked  abroad,  and  the  saint  rewarded  them  by 
giving  them  drink  out  of  his  well.  An  Egjq^tian  hermit  luid 
made  a  beautiful  garden  in  the  desert,  and  unfd  to  sit  l)eneath 
the  palm-trees  while  a  lion  ate  fruit  from  hi?  hand.     When 


'Thus   St.  Paul   (1  Cor.  ix.  9)  its  iialiiml  meaning,  w>f-b  th«  «on- 

turnod   aside   the    precept,    '  Thou  teniptuous    question.    '  Doth    God 

Bhalt  not  muzzle  tlie  mouth  of  tho  take  care  for  oxen? 
ox  that  treadeth  out  tho  corn,'  from 


FBOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  169 

Si.  Poemea  was  shivering  in  a  winter  night,  a  lion  crouched 
beside  him,  and  became  his  coveiing.  Lions  bviried  St.  Panl 
the  hermit  and  St.  Mary  of  Egypt.  They  appear  in  the 
legends  of  St.  Jerome,  St.  Gerasimus,  St.  John  the  Silent, 
St.  Simeon,  and  many  others.  "When  an  old  and  feeble  monk, 
named  Zosimas,  was  on  his  journey  to  Csesai-ca,  -w^th  an  ass 
which  bore  his  possessions,  a  lion  seized  and  devoured  the 
ass,  but,  at  the  command  of  the  saint,  the  lion  itself  can'ied 
the  burden  to  the  city  gates.  St.  Helenus  called  a  wild  ass 
from  its  herd  to  bear  his  burden  through  the  wilderness.  The 
same  saint,  as  well  as  St.  Pachomius,  crossed  the  Nile  on  the 
back  of  a  ci'ocodile,  as  St.  Scuthinus  did  the  Irish  Channel 
on  a  sea  monster.  Stags  continually  accompanied  saints  upon 
their  journeys,  boi-e  their  burdens,  ploughed  their  fields,  re- 
vealed their  relics.  The  hunted  stag  was  especially  the  theme 
of  many  picturesque  legends.  A  Pagan,  named  Brancliion, 
was  once  pursuing  an  exhausted  stag,  when  it  took  i-efuge  in 
a  cavern,  whose  threshold  no  inducement  coiUd  persuade  the 
hounds  to  cross.  The  astonished  himter  entered,  and  found 
himself  in  presence  of  an  old  hermit,  who  at  once  protected 
the  fugitive  and  converted  the  pursuer.  In  the  legends  of 
St.  Eustachius  and  St.  Hubei-t,  Christ  Is  represented  as  having 
assumed  the  form  of  a  hunted  stag,  wliich  turned  upon  its 
pursuer,  with  a  crucifix  glittering  on  its  brow,  and,  addi-essing 
him  with  a  human  voice,  converted  him  to  Christianity.  lu 
the  full  frenzy  of  a  chase,  hounds  and  stag  stoj^ped  and  knelt 
down  together  to  venerate  the  relics  of  St.  Fingar.  On  the 
festival  of  St.  Eegulns,  the  wild  stags  assembled  at  the  tomb 
of  the  saint,  as  the  ravens  used  to  do  at  that  of  St.  ApoUinar 
of  Ravenna.  St.  Erasmus  was  the  special  protector  of  oxen, 
and  they  knelt  down  voluntarily  before  his  shrine.  St.  An- 
tony was  the  protector  of  hogs,  who  were  usually  introduced 
into  his  pictures.  St.  Bridget  kept  pigs,  and  a  wild  boar  came 
from  the  forest  to  subject  itself  to  her  ru^e.  A  horse  fore- 
shadowed by  its  lamentations  the  death  of  St.  Columba.    The 


170  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

three  companions  of  St.  Colman  were  a  cock,  a  mouse,  and  a 
fly.  The  cock  announced  the  hour  of  devotion,  the  mouae 
bit  the  ear  of  the  drowsy  saint  till  he  got  up,  and  if  in  the 
course  of  his  studies  he  was  afflicted  by  any  wandering 
thoughts,  or  called  away  to  other  business,  the  fly  alighted 
on  the  line  where  he  had  left  off,  and  kept  the  place.  Le- 
gends, not  without  a  certain  whimsical  beauty,  described  the 
moi-al  qualities  existing  in  animals.  A  hermit  was  accus- 
tomed to  share  his  supper  with  a  wolf,  which,  one  evening 
entering  the  cell  before  the  retiu-n  of  the  master,  stole  a 
loaf  of  bread.  Struck  with  remorse,  it  was  a  week  before  it 
ventured  again  to  visit  the  cell,  and  when  it  did  so,  its  head 
hung  down,  and  its  whole  demeanour  manifested  the  most 
profound  contrition.  The  hermit  '  stroked  with  a  gentle 
hand  its  bowed  down  head,'  and  gave  it  a  double  portion  as 
a  token  of  forgiveness.  A  lioness  knelt  down  with  lamenta- 
tions before  another  saint,  and  then  led  him  to  its  cub,  which 
was  blind,  but  which  i-eceived  its  sight  at  the  prayer  of  the 
saint.  Next  day  the  lioness  returned,  bearing  the  skin  of  a 
wild  beast  as  a  mark  of  its  gratitude.  Nearly  the  same  thing 
happened  to  St.  Macarius  of  Alexandria ;  a  hyena  knocked 
at  his  door,  brought  its  young,  which  was  blind,  and  which 
the  saint  restored  to  sight,  and  repaid  the  ol)ligation  soon 
afterwards  by  bringing  a  fleece  of  wool.  '0  hyena!'  said 
the  saint,  '  how  did  you  obtain  this  fleece  1  you  must  have 
stolen  and  eaten  a  sheep.'  Full  of  shame,  the  hyena  hung  its 
head  down,  but  persisted  in  offering  its  gift,  which,  however, 
the  holy  man  refused  to  receive  till  the  hyena  '  had  sworn ' 
to  cease  for  the  future  to  rob.  Tlie  liyena  bowed  its  head  in 
token  of  its  acceptance  of  the  oath,  and  St.  Macarius  after- 
wards gave  the  fleece  to  St.  Melania.  Other  legends  simp'j 
s])eak  of  the  sympathy  between  saints  and  the  irrational 
world.  The  birds  came  at  the  call  of  St.  (Juthbcrt,  and  a  dead 
bird  was  resuscitated  by  his  prayer.  When  St.  Acngussius, 
in  fe  ling  wood,  had  cut  his  hand,  the  birds  gathered  round, 


FROM   CONSTANTINB    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  171 

ftnd  with,  loud  cries  lamented  his  misfoiiune.  A  little  bii-d, 
struck  down  and  mortally  wounded  by  a  hawk,  fell  at  the 
feet  of  St.  Kieranus,  who  shed  tears  as  he  looked  upon  its 
torn,  breast,  and  offered  up  a  prayer,  upon  which  the  bird 
was  instantly  healed.^ 

ISIany  hundi-eds,  I  should  ^^erhaps  hardly  exaggerate  were 
I  to  say  many  thousands,  of  legends  of  tliis  kind  exist  in  the 
lives  of  the  saints.  Suggested  in  the  first  instance  by  that 
desert  life  which  was  at  once  the  earliest  phase  of  monachism 
and  one  of  the  earliest  sources  of  Christian  mythology, 
strengthened  by  the  symbolism  which  represented  different 
virtues  and  vices  under  the  forms  of  animals,  and  by  the 
reminiscences  of  the  rites  and  the  superstitions  of  Paganism, 
the  connection  l^etween  men  and  animals  became  the  key 
note  of  au  infinite  variety  of  fantastic  tales.  In  our  eye* 
they  may  appear  extravagantly  puerile,  yet  it  will  scarcely,  ] 
hops,  be  necessary  to  apologise  for  intioducing  them  into 
what  purports  to  be  a  grave  work,  when  it  is  remembei-ed 
that  for  many  centuries  they  were  universally  accepted  by 
mankind,  and  were  so  interwoven  with  all  local  ti-aditions, 
and  with  all  the  associations  of  education,  that  they  at  once 
determined  and  reflected  the  inmost  feelings  of  the  heart. 
Their  tendency  to  create  a  certain  feeling  of  sympathy  to- 
wards animals  is  manifest,  and  this  is  probably  the  utmost 


'  I  have   taken  these  illustra-  isina;   virtiips  and  vices,  and   has 

tions  from  the  collection  of  ht-rmit  shown  the  way  in  which  the  same 

literature  in  Rosweyde,  from  dif-  incidents  were  repeated,  witli  sliglit 

ferent  volumes  of  the  BoUandists,  variations,  in  different  lefi:euds.    ^l. 

from    the    Bialogius   of    Sulpicius  de  Montalembert  has  devoted  what 

Sevenis,  and  from  what  is  perliaps  is    probably    tlie    most    beautiful 

the  most  interesting  of  all  collec-  chapter   of  his  Moines  cCOccidcnt 

tions  of  saintly  legends,   Colgan's  ('Lcs  Moines  et  la  Nature')  to  the 

Acta     Sanctorum     Htbcrnice.      31.  relations  of  monks  to  the   animal 

Alfred  Maury,  in  his  most  Veduable  world;  but  the  numerous  legeniis 

vork,  Legendes  pieiises  du  Mnycn  he  cites  are  all.  with  one  or  two 

Age,   has   examined   minutely  the  exceptions,  different  from  those  I 

part  played  by  animals  in  symbol-  have  given. 


172  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  Catholic  Church  has  done  in  that  direction.'  A  very 
few  authentic  rnsiances  may,  indeed,  be  cited  of  saints  whose 
natural  gentleness  of  disposition  was  displayed  in  kindness  to 
the  animal  world.  Of  St.  James  of  A^enice — an  obscm-e  saint 
of  the  thirteenth  century — it  is  told  that  he  was  accustomed  to 
buy  and  release  the  birds  with  which  Italian  boys  used  to  play 
by  attaching  them  to  strings,  saying  that  '  he  pitied  the  little 
bii'ds  of  the  Lord/  and  that  his  '  tender  charity  recoiled  from 
all  cruelty,  even  to  the  most  diminutive  of  animals.' ^  St. 
Fi-ancis  of  Assisi  was  a  moi-e  conspicuous  example  of  the  same 
spirit.  *  If  I  could  only  be  presented  to  the  emperor,'  he  used 
to  say,  *  I  would  pray  him,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  of  me,  to 
issue  an  edict  prohibiting  any  one  from  catching  or  im})rison- 
ing  my  sisters  the  larks,  and  ordering  that  all  who  have  oxen 
or  asses  should  at  Christmas  feed  them  particularly  well.'  A 
crowd  of  legends  turning  upon  this  theme  were  i"elated  of 
him.  A  wolf,  near  Gubbio,  being  adjured  by  him,  promised 
to  abstain  from  eating  sheep,  placed  its  paw  in  the  hand  of 
the  saint  to  ratify  the  promise,  and  was  afterwards  fed  from 
house  to  house  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  A  crowd  of 
birds,  on  another  occasion,  came  to  hear  the  saint  preach,  as 
fish  did  to  hear  St,  Antony  of  Padua.  A  falcon  awoke  him 
at  his  hour  of  prayer.  A  giasshopper  encouraged  him  by  hei 
melody  to  sing  praises  to  God.  The  noisy  swallows  kepi 
silence  when  he  began  to  teach.^ 


'  Chatoaubriarul    speaks,    how-  tha  fi.'h  in  their  net,  tliat  ho  might 

ever  {I-Jtudes  hif:tori(jue.f,hi\(\G  \i"",  liave    tlie    pleasure    of    roloasing 

1"  parli(3),  of  an   old  (Jallic  law,  them.     (Apuleius,  Apologia.) 

forbidding  to  throw  a  stono  at  an  *  See  these  legends  collected  by 

ox  attached  to  the  plough,  or  to  Hase   (-S^   Francis.  Assisi).     It  is 

make  its  yoke  too  tight.  .said   of  Cardinal  Bcllarmine   that 

-  Bollnndists,    May    31.     Leo-  he   used  to  allow  vermin    to  bite 

nardo  da  Vinci  i.s  said  to  have  had  Iiim,     saying,     'We     shall     have 

th<!  same  fondness  for  buying  and  lieaven  to  reward  us  for  our  sutl'or- 

releasing  cag<d  birds,   and   (to  go  ings,  but  these  poor  creatures  have 

back  a  long  way)  Pythagoras   to  nothing  but  the  enjoyment  of  this 

have  purchased  one  day,  near  Me-  present  life.'    (Bayle,   Diet,  philoa. 

*JipontU8,  from  some  fishermen  all  art.    Bellarmine.') 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  173 

On  the  whole,  however,  Catholicism  Las  done  very  little 
fco  inculcate  humanity  to  animals.  The  fatal  vice  of  theo- 
logians, who  have  always  looked  upon  others  solely  through 
tlie  medium  of  their  own  special  dogmatic  views,  has  been 
an  obstacle  to  all  advance  in  this  direction.  The  animal 
world,  being  altogether  external  to  the  scheme  of  redemption, 
was  regarded  as  beyond  the  range  of  duty,  and  the  belief 
that  we  have  any  kind  of  obligation  to  its  members  has  never 
been  inculcated — ^has  never,  I  believe,  been  even  admitted — by 
Catholic  theologians.  In  the  popular  legends,  and  in  the 
recorded  traits  of  individual  amiability,  it  is  curious  to  ob- 
serve how  constantly  those  who  have  sought  to  inculcate 
kindness  to  animals  have  done  so  by  endeavoiu'ing  to  asso- 
ciate them  with  something  distinctively  Chi-istiau.  The 
legends  I  have  noticed  glorified  them  as  the  companions  of 
the  saints.  The  stag  was  honoured  as  especially  commis- 
sioned to  reveal  the  relics  of  saints,  and  as  the  deadly  enemy 
of  the  serpent.  In  the  feast  of  asses,  that  animal  was  led 
with  veneration  into  the  churches,  and  a  rude  hymn  pro- 
claimed its  dignity,  because  it  had  borne  Christ  in  His  Hight 
to  Egypt,  and  in  His  entry  into  Jerusalem.  St.  Francis 
always  treated  lambs  with  a  peculiar  tenderness,  as  being 
symbols  of  his  Master.  Luther  gi-ew  sad  and  thoughtful 
at  a  hare  hunt,  for  it  seemed  to  him  to  represent  the  pursuit 
of  souls  by  the  devil.  Many  popular  legends  exist,  asso- 
ciating: some  bird  or  animal  with  some  incident  in  the  evan- 
golical  narrative,  and  securing  for  them  in  consequence  an 
unmolested  life.  But  such  influences  have  never  extended 
fai'.  There  ai-e  two  distinct  objects  which  may  be  considered 
b)'  moralists  in  this  sphere.  They  may  regard  the  character 
of  the  men,  or  they  may  regard  the  sufferings  of  the  animals. 
The  amount  of  callousness  or  of  conscious  cruelty  displayed 
or  elicited  by  amusements  or  practices  that  inflict  sulfermg 
on  animals,  bears  no  kind  of  proportion  to  the  intensity  of 
that  suflfering.     Could   we  follow  with  adequate  realisation 


174  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Ihe  pangs  of  the  wounded  birds  that  are  struck  down  in  our 
sports,  or  of  the  timid  hare  in  the  long  course  of  its  flight, 
we  should  probably  conclude  that  they  were  not  really  less 
than  those  caused  by  the  Spanish  bull-fight,  or  by  the  English 
pastimes  of  the  last  century.  But  the  excitement  of  the 
chase  refracts  the  imagination,  and  owing  to  the  diminul  ive 
size  of  the  victim,  and  the  undemonstrative  character  of  its 
Buffering,  these  sports  do  not  exercise  that  prejudicial  in- 
fluence upon  character  which  they  woidd  exercise  if  the 
sufferings  of  the  animals  were  vividly  realised,  and  were  at 
the  same  time  accepted  as  an  element  of  the  enjoyment. 
The  class  of  amusements  of  which  the  ancient  combats  of 
wild  beasts  foi'm  the  type,  have  no  doubt  nearly  disappeared 
from  Christendom,  and  it  is  possible  that  the  softening  power 
of  Christian  teaching  may  have  had  some  indirect  influence 
in  abolishing  them ;  but  a  candid  judgment  will  confess  that 
it  has  been  very  little.  During  the  periods,  and  in  the 
countries,  in  which  theological  influence  was  supreme,  they 
were  unchallenged.'  They  disappeared^  at  last,  because  a 
hixurious  and  industi'ial  civilisation  involved  a  refinement  of 
iuann(irs ;  because  a  fastidious  taste  recoiled  with  a  sensa- 
tion of  disgust  from  pleasures  that  an  uncultivated  taste 
wou'd  keenly  relish ;  because  the  drama,  at  once  reflecting 


'  1  hiive  noticed,  in  my  History  Seymour's      Survey      of    London 

of  liaiionalism,  that,  aMhovLgh  some  (!734),     vol.     i.     pp.     227-230  ; 

Popes  did  uiidoulitodly  try  to  sup-  Strutt's  Sfjorts  and  Pasthncs  of  Ihe 

press  Spiinitili  ljuli-fi;,dits,  this  was  EiK/linh  People.     Cock-fi^htiufj;  wjis 

solely  on  account  of  tile du.struci ion  a    tavimritc  cliildrcns   aiiuisKini'nt 

of  human  life  tiiey   ciui.sod.     Full  in   jMifrlaiuI  as  early  as  the  iwclflh 

details  on  this  ml ijcct  will  he  f(jund  century,     (llanipson's    McdiiAin 

in  Concin;i,  De  Spedaculis  (Komje,  Kulcudarii,  vol.  i.  p.  IGO.)     It  «as, 

17.'j2).     Ikyle  says, 'II  n'y  H  point  with   foot-hall   and   several   other 

do  casuiste  qui  croio  qu'on  i)i'che  amusements,  for  a  time  suppressed 

en  faisant  comhattre  des  tauiran.x:  hy    Edward    ]1I.,    on    tlie  ^n-ound 

contro    des    dogues,'    &c.      {Diet,  that  tlioy  were  diverting  the  i)euplL' 

yhdos.  'Korarius,  C)  from  arcliery,  wiiicli  was  necessary 

*  On  Ihe  ancient  Rmusements  of  :o  the  militiiry  greatness  of  Eng 

England  the  reader   may   consult  land. 


FROM   CONSTA.NTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


175 


•nd  accelerating  the  change,  gave  a  new  form  to  populai 
amusements,  and  because,  in  consequence  of  this  revolu- 
tion, the  old  pastimes,  being  left  to  the  dregs  of  society,  be- 
came the  occasions  of  scandalous  disorders.'     In  Protestant 


'  The  decline  of  these  amuse- 
ments in  England  began  with  the 
great  development  of  the  theatre 
under  Elizabeth.  An  order  of  the 
Privy  Council  in  July,  1591,  pro- 
hibits the  exliibition  of  plays  on 
Thursday,  because  on  Thursdays 
bear-baiting  and  suchlike  pastimes 
had  been  usually  practised,  and  an 
injunction  to  the  same  effect  was 
sent  to  the  Lord  Mayor,  wherein  it 
■was  stated  that,  'in  divers  places 
the  players  do  use  to  recite  their 
plays,  to  the  great  hurt  and  de- 
struction of  the  game  of  bear- 
baiting  and  like  pastimes,  which 
are  maintiiinod  for  Her  Majesty's 
pleasure.' — Nichols,  Progresses  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  (ed.  1828),  vol.  i. 
p.  438.  The  reader  will  remember 
the  picture  in  Kcnilworth  of  the 
Earl  of  Sussex  petitioning  Eliza- 
beth against  fSliakespeare,  on  the 
ground  of  his  plays  distracting  men 
from  bear-baiting.  Elizabeth  (see 
Nichols)  was  e.\tremely  lond  of 
bear-baiting.  James  I.  especially 
delighted  in  cock-fighting,  and  in 
1610  was  present  at  a  great  fight 
between  a  licm  and  a  bear.  (Hone, 
Every  Day  Boole,  vol.  i.  pp.  255- 
299.)  The  t'leatres.  however,  ra- 
pidly mnltiplied,  and  a  writer  who 
lived  about  1629  said,  'tliatnoless 
than  seventeen  playhouses  had  been 
built  in  or  about  London  witlun 
threescore  years.'  (Seymour's  Sur- 
vey, vol.  i.  p.  229.)  The  Rebellion 
euypressed  all  puUic  amusements, 
and  when  they  were  re-established 
after  tlie  Restoration,  it  was  found 


that  the  tastes  of  the  better  classes 
no  longer  sympathised  with  the 
bear-garden.  Pepys  {Diary,  August 
14,  1666)  speaks  of  bull-baiting  as 
'  a  very  rude  and  nasty  pleasure,' 
and  says  he  had  not  been  in  the 
bear- garden  for  many  years.  Eve- 
lyn {Diary,  June  16,  1670),  having 
been  present  at  these  shows,  de- 
scribes them  as  'butcherly  sports, 
or  rather  barbarous  cruelties,'  and 
says  he  had  not  visited  them  before 
for  twenty  years.  A  paper  in  the 
Spectator  (No.  141,  written  in  1711) 
talks  of  those  who  'seek  their 
diversion  at  the  bear-garden,  .  .  . 
where  reason  and  good  mannni-s 
have  no  right  to  disturb  them.'  In 
1751,  however,  Lord  Kames  w;is 
able  to  say,  'The  beargarden, 
which  is  one  of  the  chief  entertain- 
ments of  the  English,  is  held  in 
abhorrence  by  the  French  and  other 
polite  nations.' — Essay  on  Morals 
(1st  ed.),  p.  7;  and  he  warmly 
defends  (p.  30)  the  English  ta.ste. 
During  the  latter  half  of  the  last 
century  there  was  constant  contro- 
versy on  the  subject  (which  may 
be  traced  in  the  pages  of  the  An- 
nual Register),  and  several  forgot- 
ten clergymen  published  sermons 
upon  it,  and  the  frequent  riota 
resulting  from  the  fact  that  the 
bear-gardens  had  become  the  resort 
of  the  worst  classes  assisted  the 
movement.  The  Loiulon  magis- 
trates took  measures  to  suppress 
cock-throwing  in  1769  (Hampson's 
Mrd.  JEv.  Kalend.  p.  160);  but 
bull-baiting  continued  far  into  the 


176 


mSTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


countries  the  clergy  have,  on  the  whole,  sustained  tliis  move- 
ment. In  Catholic  countries  it  has  been  much  more  faithfully 
re])resentecl  by  the  school  of  Voltaire  and  Beccaria.  A 
judicious  moralist  may,  however, reasonably  question  whether 
amusements  which  derive  their  zest  from  a  display  of  the 
natural  ferocious  instincts  of  animals,  and  which  substitute 
death  endured  in  the  frenzy  of  combat  for  death  in  the 
remote  slaughter-house  or  by  the  slow  pi-ocess  of  decay,  have 
added  in  any  appreciable  degree  to  the  sum  of  animal 
misery,  and  in  these  cases  he  will  dwell  less  upon  the  sufier- 
ing  inflicted  than  upon  the  injurious  influence  the  spectacle 
may  sometimes  exercise  on  the  character  of  the  spectator. 
But  there  ai-e  forms  of  cruelty  wliicL  must  be  i-ega:  ded  in  a 
different  light.  The  horroi-s  of  vivisection,  often  so  wantonly, 
so  needlessly  practised,'  the  prolonged  and  atrocious  tortures, 


present  century.  Windhiiin  and 
Canning  strongly  defended  it ;  Dr. 
Parr  is  said  to  have  been  fund  of  it 
{Southei/'s  Commonplace  Book,  vol. 
iv.  p.  585);  and  as  Into  as  1824. 
Sir  Robert  (then  Mr  )  Peel  argued 
ftronf.rly  sigainst  its  prohibiiion. 
(Varlidincnlary  Debates,  vol.  x. 
pp.    1:52 -133,  491-495.) 

'  Hacon,  iu  an  account  of  the 
deficiencies  of  madicine,  recom- 
mends vivisection  in  terms  tbat 
seem  to  imply  that  it  was  not 
practised  in  his  time.  '  As  for  the 
p;issagi'.s  and  pores,  it  is  true,  which 
was  anciently  noted,  that  the  moro 
snljtleof  them  appear  not  in  anato- 
mies, because  they  are  shut  and 
latent  in  dead  bodies,  though  they 
bo  open  and  inMiiifcst  in  live; 
u-liich  Vicing  supposed,  though  the 
inhumanity  of  anatonda  vivorum 
was  by  CeJsUH  justly  reproved,  yet, 
in  regard  of  the  great  use  of  this 
observatio'i.  the  enquiry  needed 
cot  I'y  him  .s<  sl-ghtly  tohave  been 


relinquished  altogether,  or  referred 
to  the  CHSual  practices  of  surixery  ; 
but  might  have  been  well  diverted 
upon  the  dissection  of  beasts  alive, 
which,  notwithstanding  the  dis- 
similitude of  their  parts,  may 
sufficiently  satisfy  this  enquiry.' — 
JdvaiiccMcnt  of  Lrarmvg,  x.  4. 
TIarvey  speaks  of  vivisections  as 
having  contributed  to  lead  him  to 
thediscoveryofthecirculationofthe 
Llood.  (Acland's  Harwian  Oration 
(18o5).  p.  55.)  I'ayle,  describing 
the  treiitnient  of  animals  by  men, 
says,  'Nous  fouillons  dans  leurs 
enfraillcs  pendant  lenrvie  afin  do 
satisfairo  notre  curiosit6.' — Dirt, 
jihilos.  art.  'K(jrarius,  C  Public 
opinion  in  lOngland  was  vei'y 
strongly  directed  to  the  subjer't  in 
the  present  century,  liy  the  atro- 
cious cruelties  perpetrated  by  !\Ia- 
jendie  at  his  lectures.  tSee  a  i.iost 
frightful  account  of  them  in  a 
speech  by  Mr.  Martin  (an  eccentric 
Irish  member,  who  was  generally 


VliOM    CONSTANTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  177 

Bometimes  inflicted  in  order  to  procure  some  gastronomic  de- 
licacy, are  so  far  removed  from  the  public  gaze  that  they 
exeicise  little  influence  on  the  character  of  men.  Yet  no 
humane  man  can  reflect  upon  them  without  a  shudder.  To 
bring  these  things  witliin  the  range  of  etliics,  to  create  the 
notion  of  duties  towards  the  animal  world,  has,  so  far  as 
Christian  coimtries  are  concei-ned,  been  one  of  the  peculiar 
merits  of  the  last  centuiy,  and,  for  the  most  part,  of  Protes- 
tant nations.  However  fully  we  may  recognise  the  humane 
spiiit  transmitted  to  the  world  ia  the  form  of  legends  from 
the  saints  of  the  desert,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  in- 
culcation of  humanity  to  animals  on  a  wide  scale  is  mainly 
the  work  of  a  recent  and  a  secular  age ;  that  the  Mohamme- 
dans and  the  Brahmins  have  in  this  sphere  considerably 
surpassed  the  Christians,  and  that  Spain  and  Southern  Italy, 
in  which  Catholicism  has  most  deeply  planted  its  roots,  are 
even  now,  probably  beyond  all  other  couuti-ies  in  Europe, 
those  in  which  inhumanity  to  animals  is  most  wanton  aU'.l 
most  imrebuked. 

The  influence  the  first  form  of  monachism  has  exercised 
upon  the  world,  so  far  as  it  has  been  benefical,  has  been 
chiefly  through  the  imagination,  which  has  been  fascinated  by 
its  legends.  In  the  great  periods  of  theological  controversy, 
the  Eastern  monks  had  furnished  some  leadinir  tlieoloiriaus  ; 
but  in  general,  in  Oriental  lands,  the  hermit  life  j:)redomi- 
nated,  and  extreme  maceration  was  the  cliief  merit  of  the  saint. 
But  in  the  West,  monachism  assumed  very  difterent  forms, 
and  exercised  far  higher  functions.  At  first  the  Oriental 
saLnts  were  the  ideals  of  Western  monks.  The  Eastern  St. 
Athanasius  had  been  the  founder  of  Italian  monachism.     St. 


ridiculed  during  his  life,  and  has  I'arlinDnvt.  Hi.-<(.  vol.  xii.  p.  652. 

been    almost   forgotten    since    his  Maiidoville  in  his  day,  ^ns  iv  very 

death,  bnt  to  ■whose  untiring  ex-  strong    advocate    of    kindness    to 

crtions    the    legislative  protection  animals. —  Commentary  on  the  Fable 

of  animals  in  England    is  due).  of  the  Bees. 


178  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Martin  of  Tours  excluded  lalaour  from  the  discipline  of  his 
monks,  and  he  and  they,  like  the  Eastei-n  saints,  were  accus- 
tomed to  wander  abroad,  destroying  the  idols  of  the  temples.^ 
But  three  great  causes  conspired  to  direct  the  monastic  spirit 
in  the  West  into  practical  channels.  Conditions  of  race  anrl 
climate  have  ever  impelled  the  inhabitants  of  these  lauds 
to  active  life,  and  have  at  the  same  time  rendered  them 
constitutionally  incapable  of  enduring  the  austerities  or 
enjoying  the  hallucinations  of  the  sedentary  Oriental.  There 
arose,  too,  in  the  sixth  century,  a  great  legislator,  whose  form 
may  be  dimly  tmced  through  a  cloud  of  fantastic  legends,  and 
the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  with  that  of  St.  Columba  and  some 
others,  founded  on  substantially  the  same  principle,  soon  rami- 
fied through  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  tempered  the  wild 
excesses  of  useless  penances,  and,  making  labour  an  essential 
part  of  the  monastic  system,  directed  the  movement  to  the 
pvu-poses  of  general  civilisation.  In  the  last  place,  the  bar- 
barian invasions,  and  the  dissolution  of  the  Western  Empire, 
dislocating  the  whole  system  of  government  and  almost  re- 
solving society  into  its  primitive  elements,  naturally  threw 
upon  the  monastic  corporations  social,  political,  and  intellec- 
tual functions  of  the  deepest  importance. 

It  has  been  observed  that  the  capture  of  Rome  by  Alaric, 
involving  as  it  did  the  destruction  of  the  grandest  religious 
monuments  of  Paganism,  in  fact  established  in  that  city  the 
supreme  authoi-ity  of  Christianity. ^  A  similar  remark  may 
l)e  extended  to  the  general  downfall  of  the  Western  civilisa- 
tion. In  that  civilisation  Christianity  had  indeed  been 
legally  enthroned  ;  but  the  philosophies  and  traditions  of 
Paganism,  and  the  ingi-ained  habits  of  an  ancient,  and  at 
the  same  time  an  effete  society,  continually  ])aralysod  its 
energies.  What  Europe  would  have  been  Avithout  the  bar- 
barian invasions,  we  may  partly  divine  from  the  histoiy  of 


'  See  his  Life  by  Sulpicius  Sevcni.s.  '  M'lman. 


FliOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  179 

the  l.i;wer  Empii-e,  which  represented,  in  fact,  the  old  Roman 
civilisation  prolonged  and  Christianised.  The  barbarian 
conquests,  breaking  up  the  old  organisation,  provided  tlie 
Church  with  a  virgin  soil,  and  made  it,  for  a  long  period, 
the  supreme  and  indeed  sole  centre  of  civilisation. 

It  would  be  cUHicult  to  exaggerate  the  skill  and  courage 
displayed  by  the  ecclesiastics  in  this  most  trying  period. 
We  have  already  seen  the  noble  daring  with  which  they 
interfered  between  the  conqueror  and  the  vanquished,  and 
the  unwearied  charity  with  which  they  sought  to  alh.^viate 
the  unparalleled  sutferings  of  Italy,  when  the  colonial  suj:)- 
plies  of  com  were  cut  off.  and  when  the  fairest  plains  were 
desolated  by  the  barbarians.  Still  more  wonderful  is  the 
rapid  conversion  of  the  barbarian  tribes.  Unfortunately 
this,  wliich  is  one  of  the  most  important,  is  also  one  of  the 
most  obscure  pages  in  the  history  of  the  Church.  Of  whole 
ti'ibes  or  nations  it  may  be  truly  said  that  we  are  absolutely 
ignorant  of  the  cause  of  their  change.  The  Goths  had 
already  been  converted  by  Ulphilas,  before  the  downftill 
of  the  Empire,  and  the  conversion  of  the  Germans  and  of 
several  northern  nations  was  long  posterior  to  it ;  but  the 
great  work  of  Christianising  the  barbarian  world  was  accom- 
plished almost  in  the  hour  when  that  world  became  supreme. 
Rude  tribes,  accustomed  in  their  own  lands  to  ])ay  absolute 
obedience  to  their  priests,  found  themselves  in  a  foreign 
country,  confronted  by  a  priesthood  far  more  civilised  and 
imposing  than  that  which  they  had  left,  by  gorgeous  cere- 
monies, well  fitted  to  entice,  and  by  threats  of  coming  judg- 
ment, well  fitted  to  scare  their  imaginations.  Disconnected 
from  all  their  old  associations,  they  bowed  before  the  majesty 
of  civilisation,  and  the  Latin  religion,  like  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, though  with  many  adulterations,  reigned  over  (l}e 
new  society.  The  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation,  and  the 
doctrine  of  dai'raons,  had  an  admirable  missionary  power. 
The  fii-st    produced    an    ardour  of  proselytising    which    the 


180  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

polytheist   could   never   rival ;  while  the  Pagan,   who  was 
easily  led  to  recognise  the  Christian  God,  was  menaced  with 
eternal  fii-e  if  he  did  not  take  the  further  ste})  of  breaking 
off  from  his  old  divinities.     The  second  dispensed  the  con 
vert  from  the  perhaps  impossible  task  of  disbelieving  his 
former  religion,  for  it  was  only  necessary  for  him  to  degi-ado 
it,  attributing  its  prodigies  to  infernal  beings.     The  priests, 
in  addition  to  their  noble  devotion,  carried  into  their  mis- 
sionary efforts  the  most  masterly  judgment.     The  barbarian 
tribes  usually  followed  without  enquiry  the  religion  of  their 
sovereign ;  and  it  was  to  the  conversion  of  the  king,  and 
still  more  to  the  conversion  of  the  queen,  that  the  Chi-istians 
devoted  all  their  energies.      Clotilda,    the   wife   of  Clovis, 
Bertha,  the  wife  of  Ethelbert,  and  Theodolinda,  the  wife  of 
Lothaire,  were  the   chief  instruments   in   converting  their 
husbands  and  their  nations.     Nothing  that  could  affect  the 
iniaaination  was  neglected.     It  is  related  of  Clotilda,  that 
she  was  careful  to  attract  her  husband  by  the  rich  draperies 
of  the  ecclesiastical  ceremonies.^     In  another  case,  the  first 
work  of  proselytising  was  coufided  to  an  artist,  who  painted 
before  the  terrified  Pagans  the  last  judgment  and  the  tor- 
ments of  hell.2    But  especially  the  belief,  which  was  sincerely 
held,  and  sedulously  inculcated,  that  temporal  success  fol- 
lowed in  the  train  of  Christianity,  and  that  every  pestilence, 
famine,  or   military   disaster   was  the  penalty  of  idolatry, 
heresy,  sacrilege,  or  vice,  assisted  the  movement.     The  theory 
was  30  wide,  that  it  met  every  variety  of  fortune,  and  being 
taught   with   consummate   skill,   to   barbarians    who    were 
totally  destitute  of  all  critical  power,  and  strongly  predis- 
posed to  accept  it,  it  proved  extremely  efficacious ;  and  hope, 
fear,  fortitude,  and  remorse  drew  multitudes  into  the  Church. 


'  Groff.  Turon.  ii.  29.  Milnian's  Ladn    Christianity,  voL 

»  This  was  tho  first  step  towards     iii.  p.  240. 
the  CDnversion  of  the  Bulgarians. — 


FROM    CONSTANTINB   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  18  i 

The  transition  was  softened  by  the  substitution  of  Christian 
ceremonies  and  saints  for  the  festivals  and  the  divinities  of 
the  Pagans.^  Besides  the  professed  missionaries,  the  Chris- 
tian captives  zealously  diffused  their  faith  among  their  Pagan 
masters.  When  the  chieftain  had  been  converted,  and  the 
army  had  followed  his  profession,  an  elaborate  monastic 
aud  ecclesiastical  organisation  gi'ew  up  to  consolidate  the 
conquest,  and  repressive  laws  soon  crushed  all  opposition  tx> 
the  faith. 

In  these  ways  the  victory  of  Christianity  over  the  bai'- 
barian  world  was  achieved.     But  that  victory,  though  very 
gi-eat,  was  less  decisive  than  might  appear.    A  religion  which 
professed  to  be  Christianity,  and  which  contained  many  of 
the   ingredients   of  pure   Christianity,   had   risen   into   the 
ascendant,   but   it  had  undergone   a    profound   modification 
through  the  struggle.     Religions,  as  well  as  woi-shippers,  had 
been  baptised.     The  festivals,  images,  and  names  of  s;\int3 
had  been  substituted  for  those  of  the  idols,  and  the  habits  of 
thought  aud  feeling  of  the  ancient  faith  reappeared  in  new 
forms  and  a  new  language.     The  tendency  to  a  material, 
idolatrous,  and  polytheistic  faith,  which  had  long  l^een  en- 
couraged by  the  monks,  and  which  the  heretics  Jovinian, 
Vigilantius,   and   Aerius   had   vainly   resisted,  was   fatally 
strengthened  by  the  infusion  of  a  barbarian  element  into  the 
Church,  by  the  general  depression  of  intellect  in  Europe,  and 
by  the  many  accommodations  that  weie  made  to  facilitate  con- 
version.    Though  apparently  defeated  and  crushed,  the  old 
gods  still  retained,  under  a  new  fai^^h,  no  small  pai-t  of  their 
influence  over  the  world. 

To   this   tendency  the   leaders   of  the  Church    made  in 
genera,    no   resistance,  though  in  another  form   they  were 


'A  remarkablp  collection  of  in-     Century  (Eng.  trans.),  vol.  i.  pp 
Btances  of  tiiis  kind  is  given  by     124-127. 
Ozanam,  Civilisaiion  in   the  Fifth 


44 


182  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

deeply  persuaded  of  the  vitality  of  the  old  gods.  Many 
curious  and  picturesque  legends  attest  the  popular  l>elief  that 
the  old  Koman  and  the  old  barbarian  divinities,  in  their 
capacity  of  daemons,  were  still  waging  an  unrelenting  war 
agaiast  the  triumphant  faith.  A  great  Pope  of  the  sixth 
century  relates  how  a  Jew,  being  once  l>enighted  on  liia 
Journey,  and  finding  no  other  shelter  for  the  night,  lay  down 
to  rest  in  an  abandoned  temple  of  Apollo.  Shuddering  at 
the  loneliness  of  the  biiilding,  and  fearing  the  daemons  who 
were  said  to  haunt  it,  he  determined,  though  not  a  Christian, 
to  protect  himself  by  the  sign  of  the  cross,  which  he  liad 
often  heard  possessed  a  mighty  power  against  s])iiits.  To 
that  sign  he  owed  his  safety.  For  at  midnight  the  temple 
was  filled  with  dark  and  threatening  forms.  The  god  Apollo 
was  holding  his  court  at  his  deserted  shrine,  and  his  attendant 
daemons  were  recounting  the  temptations  they  had  de-Noised 
against  the  Chiistians.'  A  newly  married  Roman,  when  one 
day  playing  ball,  took  off  his  wedding-ring,  which  he  found 
an  impediment  in  the  game,  and  he  gaily  put  it  on  the  finger 
of  a  statue  of  Venus,  that  was  standing  near.  When  he 
returned,  the  marble  finger  had  bent  so  that  it  was  impossible 
to  withdraw  the  ring,  and  that  night  the  goddess  appeared  to 
him  in  a  di-eam,  and  told  him  tliat  she  was  now  his  wedded 
wife,  and  that  she  would  abide  with  him  for  ever.'^  When 
the  Irish  missionary  St.  Gall  was  fishing  one  night  upon  a 
Swiss  lake,  near  which  he  had  planted  a  monastery,  he  heard 
strange  voices  sweeping  over  the  lonely  deep.  The  Spirit  of 
the  Water  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountains  were  consultiTig 


'  St.  Gregory,  7)i<7?.  iii.  7.    Tlie  to  stroke  lier  on  the  b.ick.  Tlic.kvr, 

p;i rticular  temptation  the  Jew  lieanl  liiiving    related    tlic  vi.'^ion  to    tlie 

discussed  was  that  of  tlio  bisliop  of  hisliop,    the    latter    reformed    his 

ibo  diocese,  who,  tinder  the  in.stiga-  manners,  the  Jew  became  a  Cliris- 

ilion  of   one  of  the  da-mons,   was  tian,  and  the  temple  was  turned 

rapidly  fulling  in  love  with  a  nun,  into  a  church. 
»nd  hatl  proceefled  so  far  as  jocosely  '  William  of  Malmesbury,  ij.  1 3. 


FKOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  183 

together  liow  they  could  expel  the  intruder  who  had  distm-bed 
their  ancient  reign.' 

The  details  of  the  i-a})id  propagation  of  Western  mon- 
achism  have  been  amply  treated  by  many  historians,  and 
the  causes  of  its  success  are  sufficiently  manifest.  Some  of 
the  reasonis  T  have  assigned  for  the  first  spread  of  asceticism 
continued  to  operate,  while  others  of  a  still  more  powerful 
kind  had  arisen.  The  rapid  decomposition  of  the  entire  Eoman 
Empii'e  by  continuous  invasions  of  barbai-ians  rendered  the 
existence  of  an  inviolable  asylum  and  centre  of  peaceful 
labour  a  matter  of  transcendent  importaiace,  and  the  mon- 
astery as  organised  by  St.  Benedict  soon  combined  the  most 
heterogeneous  elements  of  attraction.  It  was  at  once  emi- 
nently a,ristoci-atic  atid  intensely  democratic.  The  power  and 
princely  position  of  the  abbot  were  coveted,  and  usually 
f)btaiaed,  by  members  of  the  most  illustrious  families  ;  while 
emancipated  sei-fs,  or  peasants  who  had  lost  their  all  in  the 
inva,sions,  or  wei-e  harassed  by  savage  nobles,  or  had  fled  from 
military  service,  or  desired  to  lead  a  more  secure  and  easy 
life,  found  in  the  monastery  an  unfailing  refuge.  The  insti- 
tution exercised  all  the  influence  of  great  wealtli,  expended 
for  the  most  part  ■with  gi-eat  cJiarity,  while  the  monk  himself 
was  invested  with  the?  aureole  of  a  sacred  poverty.  To 
ardent  and  philanthropic  natures,  the  profession  opened 
boundless  vistas  of  missionary,  charitable,  and  civilising 
activity.  To  the  superstitious  it  was  the  plain  road  to 
heaven.  To  the  ambitious  it  was  the  portal  to  bishoprics, 
and,  after  the  monk  St.  Gregory,  not  unfreqnently  to  the 
Popedom.  To  the  studious  it  oflbred  the  only  opi)ortunity 
then  existing  in  the  world  of  seeing  many  books  and  jwvssing 
a  life  of  study.  To  the  timid  and  retiring  it  aflbrded  the 
most  secure,  and  probably  the  least  laborious  life  a  jioor 
peasant  could  hope  to  find.  Vast  as  were  the  multitudes 
that  thi'ongcd  tlie  monasteries,  tlie  means  for  their  sujijwrt 

'  See  Milrnan's  Hisf.  of  Latin  ChrL<fianifi/,  v<..l.  ii.  p.  293. 


184  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

were  never  wanting.  The  belief  that  gifts  or  legacies  to  a 
monastery  opened  the  doors  of  heaven  was  in  a  superstitions 
age  suiRcient  to  secure  for  the  community  an  almost  boundless 
wealth,  which  was  still  further  increased  by  the  skill  and 
perseverance  with  which  the  mouks  tilled  the  waste  lands,  by 
the  exemption  of  their  domains  from  all  taxation,  and  by  the 
tranquillity  which  in  the  most  tm-bulent  ages  they  iisually 
enjoyed.  In  France,  the  Low  Countiies,  and  Germany  they 
were  preeminently  agi'icultui'ists.  Gigantic  forests  were 
felled,  inhospitable  marshes  reclaimed,  barren  plains  culti- 
vated by  their  hands.  The  monastery  often  became  the  nu- 
cleus of  a  city.  It  was  the  centre  of  civilisation  and  industry, 
the  symbol  of  moral  power  in  an  age  of  tux-bulence  and  war. 
It  must  be  observed,  however,  that  the  beneficial  influence 
of  the  monastic  system  was  necessarily  transitional,  and  the 
subsequent  corruption  the  normal  and  inevitable  result  of  its 
constitution.  Vast  societies  living  in  enforced  celibacy, 
exercising  an  unbounded  influence,  and  possessing  enormous 
wealth,  must  necessarily  have  become  hotbeds  of  corruption 
when  tlie  enthusiasm  that  had  cieated  them  expired.  The 
services  they  rendered  as  the  centres  of  agiiculture,  the 
refuge  of  travellers,  the  sanctuaries  in  war,  the  coimterpoise 
of  the  baronial  castle,  were  no  longer  required  when  the  con- 
vulsions of  invasion  had  ceased  and  when  civil  society  was 
definitely  organised.  And  a  similar  observation  may  bo 
extended  even  to  their  moral  type.  Thus,  while  it  is  un- 
doubtedly true  that  the  Benedictine  monks,  by  making 
labour  an  essential  element  of  their  discipline,  did  very  much 
to  efface  the  stigma  which  slavery  had  affixed  upon  it,  it  is 
also  true  that,  when  industry  had  passed  out  of  its  initial 
stAgc,  the  monastic  theories  of  the  sanctity  of  poverty,  and  the 
evil  of  wealth,  were  its  most  deadly  opponents.  The  dog- 
mi  tic  condemnation  by  theologians  of  loans  at  interest,  which 
are  the  basis  of  industiial  enterprise,  was  the  expression  of  a 
faj*  dee)>er  antagonism  of  tendencies  and  ideAls. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  185 

In  one  important  respect,  the  transition  from  the  eremite 
to  the  monastic  life  involved  not  only  a  change  of  circum- 
stances, but  also  a  change  of  character.  The  habit  of 
obedience,  and  the  virtue  of  humility,  assumed  a  position 
which  they  had  never  previously  occupied.  The  conditions) 
of  the  hermit  life  contributed  to  develop  to  a  very  high 
degree  a  spii-it  of  independence  and  spiritual  pride,  which  was 
still  further  inci'eased  by  a  curious  habit  that  existed  in  the 
Church  of  regarding  each  eminent  hermit  as  the  special  model 
or  professor  of  some  particular  virtue,  and  making  pilgrim- 
ages to  him,  in  order  to  study  this  aspect  of  his  character.' 
These  pilgi-images,  combined  with  the  usually  soUtary  and 
self-sufficing  life  of  the  hermit,  and  also  with  the  habit  of 
measui-ing  progress  almost  entirely  by  the  suppression  of  a 
physical  appetite,  which  it  is  quite  possible  wholly  to  destroy, 
very  naturally  produced  an  extreme  arrogance.^  But  in  the 
highly  organised  and  disciplined  monasteries  of  the  West, 
passive  obedience  and  humility  were  the  very  first  things 
that  were  inculcated.  The  monastery,  beyond  all  other  insti- 
tutions, was  the  school  for  their  exercise ;  and  as  the  monk 
represented  the  highest  moral  ideal  of  the  age,  obedience  and 
humility  acquii-ed  a  new  value  in  the  minds  of  men.    Nearly 


'  Cassi.'in.  Cannh.  Instit.  v.   4.  Anotlier  hormit,  bein"  very  holy, 

Sf-e,  too,  some  striking  instances  of  rcceiveLl   pure   wliito  bread  every 

this  in  the  life  of  St.  Antony.  day  from  heaven,  but,  being  extra- 

*  This  spiritual  pride  is  well  vagantly  elated,  the  bread  got  worse 
noticed  by  Neander,  Ecclesiastical  and  wor.-^e  till  it  became  perfectly 
Jii-siori/  (Bohn's  ed.),  vol.  iii.  pp.  black.  (Tilleniont.  tomo  x.  pp. 
321-323.  It  appears  in  many  27-28.)  A  certain  Isidore  affirmed 
traits  scattered  through  the  lives  of  that  ho  had  not  been  conscious  of 
these  saints.  I  have  already  cited  sin,  even  in  thought,  for  forty  years, 
the  visions  telling  St.  Antony  and  (Socrates,  iv.  23.)  It  was  a  saying 
St.  Macarius  that  they  were  not  the  of  St.  Antony,  that  a  solitary  inaa 
best  cf  living  people  ;  and  also  the  in  tlie  desert  is  free  from  three 
case ofthe  hermit,  who  was  deceived  wars — of  sight,  speech,  and  hear- 
by  a  devil  in  the  form  of  a  woman,  be-  ing:  he  has  to  combat  only  forni- 
cause  he  had  been  exalted  by  pride,  cation.     {Apothcgmaia  Pairum.) 


186  HISTORY    ()¥    EUUOPEAN    MOIJALS. 

all  the  feiidal  and  other  organisations  that  arose  out  of  th? 
chaos  that  followed  the  destruct'ou  of  the  Roman  Enii)ire 
were  intimately  related  to  the  Church,  not  simply  because 
the  Church  was  the  strongest  power  in  ChrLstendom,  and 
supplied  in  itself  an  admii-able  model  of  an  organised  boily. 
but  also  because  it  had  done  much  to  educate  men  in  haliits 
of  obedience.  The  special  value  of  this  education  depended 
upon  the  peculiar  cii-cumstances  of  the  time.  The  ancient 
civilisations,  and  especially  that  of  Home,  had  been  by  no 
means  deficient  in  those  habits ;  but  it  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  dissolution  of  an  old  society,  and  of  the  ascendancy  of 
barbarians,  who  exaggerated  to  the  highest  degi-ee  their  per- 
sonal independence,  that  the  Church  proposed  to  the  reverence 
of  mankind  a  life  of  passive  obedience  as  the  liighest  ideal  of 
virtue. 

The  habit  of  obedience  was  no  new  thing  in  the  world, 
but  the  disposition  of  humility  was  pre-eminently  and  almost 
exclusively  a  Christian  virtue  ;  and  there  lias  [)robably  never 
been  any  sphere  in  which  it  has  been  so  largely  and  so  suc- 
cessfully inculcated  as  in  the  monastery.  Tlie  whole  pem'ten- 
tial  discipline,  tlie  entire  mode  or  tenor  of  the  monastic  life, 
was  designed  to  tame  every  sentiment  of  pride,  and  to  give 
humility  a  foremost  place  in  the  hierarchy  of  virtues.  We 
have  here  one  great  source  of  the  molUfylng  influence  of 
Catholicism,  llie  gentler  virtues — benevolence  and  amia- 
bility— may,  and  in  an  advanced  civilisation  often  do,  subsist 
in  natures  that  are  completely  devoid  of  genuine  humility; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  a  nature  to 
be  pervaded  by  a  deep  sentiment  of  humility  without  tliis 
sentiment  exercising  a  softening  influence  over  the  whole 
character.  To  transform  a  fierce  warlike  nature  into  a 
ctfu-acter  of  a  gentler  type,  the  firet  essential  is  to  awaken 
tliis  feeling.  In  the  monasteries,  the  extinction  of  social  and 
domestic  feelings,  the  narrow  corporate  spirit,  and,  still  more, 
the  atrocious  opinions   that  ■^ere  preA'alent  concerning   the 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  187 

guilt  of  lieres}',  produced  in  many  minds  an  extreme  and  most 
active  ferocity ;  but  the  practice  of  charity,  and  the  ideal  of 
humility,  never  failed  to  exercise  some  softening  influence 
open  Christendom. 

But,  however  advantageous  the  temporary  pi-e-emiuence 
of  this  moral  type  may  have  been,  it  was  obviously  unsuited 
for  a  later  stage  of  civilisation.  Political  liberty  is  almost 
impossible  whei-e  the  monastic  system  is  supreme,  not  merely 
because  the  monasteries  divert  the  energies  of  the  nation  from 
civic  to  ecclesiastical  channels,  but  also  because  the  monastic 
ideal  is  the  very  apotheosis  of  ser\dtude.  Catholicism  has 
been  admu*ably  fitted  at  once  to  mitigate  and  to  perpetuate 
desix>tism.  ^\Tien  men  have  learnt  to  reverence  a  life  of 
passive,  unreasoning  obedience  as  the  highest  type  of  pei-fec- 
tion,  the  enthusiasm  and  passion  of  freedom  necessarily  decline. 
In  this  respect  there  is  an  analogy  betv.-een  the  monastic  and 
the  military  spirit,  both  of  which  promote  and  glorify  passive 
obedience,  and  therefore  prepare  the  minds  of  men  for  de- 
spotic rule  ;  but,  on  the  whole,  the  monastic  spirit  is  probably 
more  hostile  to  freedom  than  the  military  spirit,  for  the  obe- 
dience of  the  monk  is  based  upon  humility,  wliile  the  obedience 
of  the  soklier  coexists  with  pride.  Now,  a  considerable 
measure  of  pride,  or  self-assertion,  is  an  invariable  charac- 
teristic of  free  communities. 

The  ascendancy  which  the  monastic  system  gave  to  the 
virtue  of  humility  has  not  continued.  This  vii-tue  is  indeed 
the  crowning  gi-ace  and  l)eauty  of  the  most  perfect  characters 
of  the  saintly  type ;  but  exi^erience  has  shown  that  among 
common  men  humility  is  more  apt  to  degenerate  into  ser- 
vility than  pride  into  arrogance ;  and  modern  moralists  ha\-e 
aj^pcaled  more  successfully  to  the  sense  of  dignity  than  to 
the  opposite  feeling.  Two  of  the  most  impoi-tant  steps  of 
later  moi-al  history  have  consisted  of  the  creation  of  a  senti- 
ment of  piide  as  the  parent  and  the  guardian  of  many  vir- 
tues.    The  first  of    these    encroachments  on  the  monastic 


188  HISTORY    OF    EDKOPEAN    MORALS. 

spii'it  was  chivalry,  wliich  called  into  being  a  proud  and 
jealous  military  honour  that  has  never  since  been  extin- 
guished. The  second  was  the  creation  of  that  feeling  of 
Belf-respect  which  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characteris 
tic^  that  distinguish  Protestant  from  the  most  Catholic  popu- 
lations, and  which  has  proved  among  the  former  an  invalu- 
able moral  agent,  forming  frank  and  independent  natiires, 
and  checking  every  servile  habit  and  all  mean  and  degrading 
vice.'  The  peculiar  vigour  with  which  it  has  been  developed 
in  Protestant  countiies  may  be  attributed  to  the  suppression 
of  monastic  institutions  and  habits ;  to  the  stigma  Protestant- 
ism has  attached  to  mendicancy,  which  Catholicism  has 
usually  glorified  and  encoui-aged  ;  lo  the  high  place  Protest- 
antism has  accorded  to  private  judgment  and  personal  re- 
sponsibility; and  lastly,  to  the  action  of  free  political  insti- 
tutions, which  have  taken  deepest  root  where  the  principles 
of  the  Reformation  have  been  accepted. 

The  relation  of  the  monasteries  to  the  intellectual  virtues, 
which  we  have  next  to  examine,  opens  out  a  wide  field  ot 


'  'Pride,  under  .-sueli  training  family.  ...  It  is  t ho  stimulating' 
[tliat  of  modern  rationalistic  philo-  principle  of  providence  on  the  onb 
eophy],  instead  of  running  to  waste,  hand,  and  of  free  expenditure  ol 
is  turned  to  account.  It  gets  a  the  other;  of  an  honourable  ambi' 
new  name  ;  it  is  called  self-respect,  tion  and  of  elt'gant  enjoyment.' — 
.  .  .  It  is  directed  into  the  channel  fi ew man,  On  Uui versify  Education, 
of  industry,  frugality,  honesty,  and  Discoursn  ix.  In  the  same  lecture 
obedience,  and  it  becomes  the  very  (wiiich  is,  perhaps,  the  most  beau- 
staple  of  the  religion  and  morality  tifiil  of  the  many  beautiful  pro- 
held  in  lionour  in  a  day  like  our  ductions  of  its  illustrious  author), 
own.  It  becomes  the  safeguard  of  Dr.  Newman  describes,  with  admi- 
thastity,  tlie  guarantee  of  veracity,  rable  eloquence,  the  manner  in 
in  high  and  low;  it  i.s  the  very  ivliich  modesty  has  suiiplantcd 
household  god  of  the  Protestant,  humility  in  the  moilorn  typo  of 
inspiring  neatness  and  decency  in  excellence.  It  is  scarcely  necessary 
tlio  servant-girl,  propriety  of  car-  to  say  that  the  lecturer  strongly 
riage  and  refined  manners  in  her  disapproves  of  the  movement  h« 
mistress,  uprightness,  manliness,  describes, 
^nd  generosity  in  the  head  of  tho 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  189 

discussion ;  and,  in  order  to  appreciate  it,  it  will  bo  necessary 
to  revert  briefly  to  a  somewhat  earlier  stage  of  ecclesiastical 
history.  And  in  the  first  place,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the 
phi'ase  intellectual  virtue,  wbich  is  often  used  in  a  metaphor- 
ical sense,  is  susceptible  of  a  strictly  literal  interpi-etation. 
If  a  sincere  and  active  desire  for  truth  be  a  moral  duty,  the 
tUscipline  and  the  dispositions  that  are  plainly  involved  in 
every  honest  search  fall  rigidly  within  the  range  of  ethics. 
To  love  truth  sincerely  means  to  pvirsue  it  '^vith  an  earnest, 
conscientious,  unflagging  zeal.  It  means  to  be  prepared  to 
follow  the  light  of  evidence  even  to  the  most  unwelcome 
conclusions  ;  to  labour  earnestly  to  emancipate  the  mind  from 
early  prejudices  ;  to  resist  the  current  of  the  desii-es,  and  the 
refracting  influence  of  the  passions  ;  to  proportion  on  all  oc- 
casions conviction  to  evidence,  and  to  be  ready,  if  need  be,  to 
exchange  the  calm  of  assurance  for  all  the  sufiering  of  a  per- 
plexed and  disturbed  mind.  To  do  this  is  very  difficult  and 
very  painfvd ;  but  it  is  clearly  involved  in  the  notion  of 
esu'nest  love  of  truth.  If,  then,  any  system  stigmatises  as 
criminal  the  state  of  doubt,  denounces  the  examiiiation  of 
some  one  class  of  arguments  or  facts,  seeks  to  introduce  the 
bias  of  the  affections  into  the  enquiries  of  the  reason,  or 
regards  the  honest  conclusion  of  an  upiight  investigator  as 
involving  moral  guilt,  that  system  is  subversive  of  intel- 
lectual honesty. 

Among  the  ancients,  although  the  methods  of  enquiry 
were  often  very  faulty,  and  generalisations  very  hasty,  a  re- 
Bpect  for  the  honest  search  after  truth  was  widely  diffused.' 
There  were,  as  we  have  already  seen,  instances  in  which 
certain  religious  practices  which  were  regarded  as  attestations 
of  loyalty,  or  as  necessary  to  propitiate  the  gods  in  favour  of 


'Thus    'inda^ntio    veri'    "was  preserved  the  notion  of  the  ni<>rMl 

reckoned  among  the  leiiding  virtues,  duties  connected  with  tlie  discipline 

and  the  high  place  given  to  aotpia  cf  the  intellect, 
ind  '  prudentia  '  in  ethical  ■writings 


190  niSTOUY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  State,  were  enforced  by  law ;  there  were  even  a  fe'W 
instances  of  philosophies,  which  were  believed  to  lead  directly 
to  immoral  results  or  social  convulsions,  being  suppressed ; 
but,  as  a  general  rule,  speculation  was  untrammelled,  the 
aotion  of  there  being  any  necessary  guilt  in  erroneous  opinion 
was  unkno^vn,  and  the  boldest  enquirers  were  regarded  with 
honour  and  admiration.  The  religious  theory  of  Paganism 
had  in  this  respect  some  influence.  Polytheism,  with  many 
faults,  had  three  great  meiits.  It  was  eminently  poetical, 
eminently  patriotic,  and  eminently  tolerant.  The  conception 
of  a  vast  hierarchy  of  beings  more  glorious  than,  but  not 
wholly  unlike,  men,  presiding  over  all  the  developments  of 
nature,  and  filling  the  universe  with  their  deeds,  supplied  the 
cliief  nutriment  of  the  Greek  imagination.  The  national 
religions,  interweaving  i-eligious  cei-emonies  and  associa- 
tions with  all  civic  life,  concentrated  and  intensified  the 
sentiment  of  patriotism,  and  the  notion  of  many  distinct 
groups  of  gods  led  men  to  tolerate  many  forms  of  worsliip 
and  great  vai'iety  of  creeds.  In  that  colossal  amalgam  of 
nations  of  which  Pome  became  the  metropolis,  intellectual 
liberty  still  further  advanced  ;  the  vast  variety  of  jihilosophies 
and  beliefs  expatiated  unmolested ;  the  search  for  truth  was 
regarded  as  an  important  element  of  vii-tae,  and  the  relent- 
less and  most  sceptical  criticism  which  Socrates  had  applied 
m  turn  to  all  the  fundamental  propositions  of  i)opular  belie/ 
remained  as  an  example  to  his  successors. 

We  have  already  seen  that  one  leading  cause  of  the  rapid 
progress  of  the  Church  was  that  its  teachers  enforced  their 
distinctive  tenets  as  absolutely  essential  to  salvation,  and  thus 
a.ssiuled  at  a  gi-eat  advantage  the  sujiportersof  all  other  ci-coda 
wliich  did  not  claim  this  exclusive  authority.  We  have  scon, 
too,  tliat  in  an  ago  of  great  and  gi-owing  credulity  they  had 
been  consjncuous  for  their  assertion  of  the  duty  of  absolute, 
unqualified,  and  unquestioning  belief  The  notion  of  the 
guilt  both  of  en'or  and  of  doubt  grew  rapidly,  and,  being 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  191 

goon  regarded  as  a  fundamental  tenet,  it  determined  tbe 
vhole  course  and  policy  of  the  Church. 

And  here,  I  think,  it  will  not  be  imadvisable  to  pause  for 
a  moment,  and  endeavour  to  ascertain  what  misconceived 
truth  lay  at  the  root  of  this  fatal  tenet.  Considered  ab- 
stractedly and  by  the  light  of  nature,  it  is  as  unmeaning  to 
speak  of  the  immorality  of  an  intellectual  mistake  as  it 
would  be  to  talk  of  the  colour  of  a  sound.  If  a  man  has 
sincerely  persuaded  himself  that  it  is  possible  for  parallel 
lines  to  meet,  or  for  two  straight  Hnes  to  enclose  a  space,  we 
pronounce  his  judgment  to  be  absurd;  but  it  is  free  from  all 
tincture  of  immorality.  And  if,  instead  of  failing  to  appre- 
ciate a  demonstrable  truth,  his  error  consisted  in  a  false  esti- 
mate of  the  conflicting  argiiments  of  an  historical  problem, 
this  mistake — assuming  always  that  the  enquiiy  was  an  up- 
right one — is  still  simply  external  to  the  sphere  of  morals. 
It  is  possible  that  liis  conclusion,  by  weakening  some  barrier 
against  vice,  may  produce  vicious  consequences,  like  those 
which  might  ensue  from  some  ill-advised  modification  of  the 
police  force ;  but  it  in  no  degree  follows  from  this  that  the 
judgment  is  in  itself  criminal.  If  a  student  applies  himself 
with  the  same  dispositions  to  Roman  and  Jewish  histories, 
the  mistakes  he  m;iy  make  in  the  latter  are  no  more 
immoral  than  those  which  he  may  make  in  the  former. 

There  are,  however,  two  cases  in  which  an  intellectual 
en-or  may  be  justly  said  to  involve,  or  at  least  to  represent, 
guilt.  In  the  first  place,  eiTor  very  frequently  springs  from 
the  partial  or  complete  absence  of  that  mental  disjx)sition 
which  is  implied  in  a  real  love  of  trtith.  HNiiocrites,  or  men 
who  through  interested  motives  profess  opinions  which  they 
no  not  really  believe,  are  probably  rai*er  than  is  usually  sup- 
posed ;  but  it  would  be  diificult  to  o^  er-estimate  the  number 
of  those  whose  genuine  convictions  are  due  to  the  unresisted 
bias  of  their  interests.  By  the  term  interests,  1  mean  not 
only  material  well-being,  but  also  all  those  mental  luxiu'ie^, 


192  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

all  those  grooves  ex  channels  for  thought,  which  it  is  easy  and 
pleasing  to  follow,  and  painful  and  difficult  to  abandon. 
Such  are  the  love  of  ease,  the  love  of  certainty,  the  love  of 
system,  the  bias  of  the  passions,  the  associations  of  the 
imagination,  as  well  as  the  coarser  influences  of  social 
position,  domestic  happiness,  professional  interest,  paity 
feeling,  or  ambition.  In  most  men,  the  love  of  truth  is  so 
languid,  and  the  reluctance  to  encounter  mental  suffei'ing  is 
BO  great,  that  they  yield  their  judgments  without  an  effort  to 
the  ciu-rent,  withdraw  their  minds  from  all  opinions  or 
arguments  opposed  to  their  own,  and  thus  speedily  convince 
themselves  of  the  truth  of  what  they  wish  to  believe.  He 
who  really  loves  truth  is  bound  at  least  to  endeavour  to 
i*esist  these  distorting  influences,  and  in  as  far  as  his  opinions 
are  the  result  of  his  not  having  dcme  so,  in  so  far  they  repi'e- 
sent  a  moral  failing. 

In  the  next  place,  it  must  be  observed  that  every  moral 
disposition  brings  with  it  an  intellectual  bias  which  exercises 
a  gi-eat  and  often  a  controlling  and  decisive  influence  even 
upon  the  most  earnest  enquirer.  If  we  know  the  character 
or  disposition  of  a  man,  we  can  usually  predict  with 
tolerable  accuracy  many  of  his  opinions.  We  can  tell  to 
what  side  of  politics,  to  what  canons  of  taste,  to  what  theory 
of  morals  he  will  naturally  incline.  Stern,  heroic,  and 
haughty  natures  tend  to  systems  in  which  these  qualities 
occupy  the  foremost  position  in  the  moral  type,  while  gentle 
natures  will  as  naturally  lean  towards  systems  in  which  the 
amiable  virtues  are  supreme.  Impelled  by  a  sjiecies  of  moral 
gi-avitation,  the  enquii-er  will  glide  insensibly  to  the  system 
which  is  congi-uous  to  hLs  disposition,  and  intellectual  diffi- 
culties will  seldom  arrest  liirn.  He  can  have  observed 
human  nature  with  but  little  fruit  who  luis  not  remarked 
how  constant  is  this  connection,  and  how  veiy  rarely  men 
change  fundamentally  the  principles  they  had  deliberately 
adopted   on   religious,    moral,    or   even    political    questionc, 


FROM    CONSTANTINK    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  19? 

without  the  change  being  preceded,  accompanied,  or  very 
speedily  followed,  by  a  serious  modification  of  character. 
So,  too,  a  vicious  and  depraved  nature,  or  a  nature  which  is 
hard,  narrow,  and  unsympathetic,  will  tend,  much  less  by 
calculation  or  indolence  than  by  natural  affinity,  to  low  am\ 
d evading  views  of  human  nature.  Those  who  have  never 
felt  the  higher  emotions  will  scarcely  appreciate  them.  The 
materials  with  which  the  intellect  builds  are  often  derived 
from  the  heart,  and  a  moral  disease  is  therefore  not  unfre- 
quently  at  the  root  of  an  erroneous  judgment. 

Of  these  two  truths  the  first  cannot,  I  think,  be  said  to 
have  had  any  influence  in  the  formation  of  the  theological 
notion  of  the  guilt  of  error.  An  elaborate  process  of  men- 
tal discipline,  with  a  view  to  strengthening  the  critical  powers 
of  the  mind,  is  utterly  remote  from  the  spii-it  of  theology ; 
and  this  is  one  of  the  gi-eat  reasons  why  the  growth  of  an 
iuductive  and  scientific  spii-it  is  invariably  hostile  to  theolo- 
gical interests.  To  raise  the  requisite  standard  of  proof,  to 
inculcate  hardness  and  slowness  of  belief,  is  the  first  task  of 
the  inductive  reasoner.  He  looks  with  great  favour  upon 
the  condition  of  a  suspended  judgment ;  he  encourages  men 
rather  to  prolong  than  to  abridge  it ;  he  regards  the  tendency 
of  the  human  mind  to  rapid  and  premature  generalisations 
as  one  of  its  most  fatal  vices ;  he  desires  especially  that  that 
which  is  believed  should  not  be  so  cherished  that  the  mind 
should  be  indisposed  to  admit  doubt,  or,  on  the  appearance 
of  new  arguments,  to  i-evise  with  impartiality  its  conclusions. 
Nearly  all  the  greatest  intellectual  achievements  of  the  la.st 
three  centuries  have  been  preceded  and  prepared  by  the 
growth  of  scepticism.  The  historic  scepticism  which  Vico, 
B'.'aufort,  Pouilly,  and  Yoltaire  in  the  last  century,  and 
Nicbuhr  and  Lewis  in  the  present  century,  applied  to  ancient 
history,  lies  at  the  root  of  all  the  great  modern  efforts  to  re- 
construct the  history  of  mankind.  The  splendid  discoveries 
of  physical  science  would  have  been  impossible  but  for  the 


■94  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORAL?. 

scientific  scepticism  of  the  school  of  Bacon,  •\vliich  dissipated 
the  old  theories  of  the  universe,  and  led  men  to  demand  a 
severity  of  proof  altogether  unknown  to  the  ancients.  The 
philosophic  scepticism  with  which  the  system  of  Hume 
ended  and  the  system  of  Kant  began,  has  given  the  greatest 
modern  impulse  to  metaphysics  and  ethics.  Exactly  in  pi'o- 
portion,  therefore,  as  men  are  educated  in  the  inductive 
school,  they  are  alienated  from  those  theological  systems 
which  represent  a  condition  of  doubt  as  sinful,  seek  to  govenn 
the  reason  by  the  interests  and  the  affections,  and  make  it  a 
main  object  to  destroy  the  impartiality  of  the  judgment. 

But  although  it  is  difficult  to  look  upon  Catholicism  in 
any  other  light  than  as  the  most  deadly  enemy  of  the 
scientific  spirit,  it  has  always  cordially  recognised  the  most 
important  truth,  that  character  in  a  very  gi-eat  measure 
determines  opinions.  To  cultivate  the  moi-al  type  that  is 
most  congenial  to  the  opinions  it  desires  to  recommend  has 
always  been  its  effort,  and  the  conviction  that  a  deviation 
from  that  type  has  often  been  the  predisposing  cause  of  intel- 
lectual heresy,  had  doubtless  a  large  share  in  the  fii-st  persua- 
sion of  the  guilt  of  error.  But  priestly  and  other  influences 
soon  conspii'ed  to  enlai-ge  this  doctrine.  A  crowd  of  specu- 
lative, historical,  and  administrative  propositions  were 
asserted  as  essential  to  salvation,  and  all  who  rejected  them 
wei-e  wholly  external  to  the  bond  of  Christian  sympathy. 

If,  indeed,  we  put  aside  the  pure  teaching  of  the  Christian 
fo^mders,  and  consider  the  actual  history  of  the  Church  since 
Constanline,  we  shall  find  no  justification  for  the  popular 
theoiy  that  beneath  its  influence  the  narrow  spirit  of  patiiot- 
ism  faded  into  a  wide  and  cosmopolitan  jihilanthropy.  A 
real  though  somewhat  languid  feeling  of  universal  brother^ 
hood  had  already  been  created  in  the  world  by  the  uni  vrr- 
Bality  of  the  Roman  Empire.  In  the  new  faith  the  range  of 
genuine  sympathy  was  strictly  limited  by  the  creed.  Ac- 
csording  to   the   popular  belief,    all    who  diffei*ed    from    the 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CFIAULEMAGNE.  195 

JeacLing  of  the  orthodox  lived  under  the  hatred  of  the 
AJ  mighty,  and  were  destined  after  death  for  an  eternity  of 
anguish.  Yery  naturally,  therefore,  they  were  wholly 
alienated  fl-oni  the  true  believers,  and  no  moral  or  intellectual 
excellence  could  atone  for  their  crime  in  propagating  error. 
The  eighty  or  ninety  sects, '  into  which  Christianity  sj^eedily 
divided,  hated  one  another  with  an  intensity  that  extorted 
the  wonder  of  Julian  and  the  ridicule  of  the  Pasrans  of 
Alexandria,  and  the  fierce  riots  and  persecutions  that  hatred 
produced  appear  in  eveiy  page  of  ecclesiastical  history. 
There  is,  indeed,  something  at  once  grotesque  and  ghastly  in 
tlie  spectacle.  The  Donatists,  having  separated  from  the 
orthodox  simply  on  the  question  of  the  A^alidity  of  the  conse- 
cration of  a  certain  bishop,  declared  that  all  who  adopted 
the  orthodox  view  must  be  damned,  refused  to  perform  their 
rites  in  the  orthodox  chm-ches  which  they  had  seized,  till  they 
had  burnt  the  a^tar  and  scraped  the  wood,  beat  multitudes  to 
death  ■with  clubs,  blinded  others  by  anointing  their  eyes  Avith 
lime,  fUled  Africa,  dui-ing  nearly  two  centin-ies,  witli  wai-  and 
desolation,  and  contributed  largely  to  its  final  ruin.^  The 
cluldish  and  almost  unintelligible  qutirrels  between  the 
Homoiousians  and  the  Homoousians,  between  those  who 
maintained  that  the  natm-e  of  Christ  was  like  that  of  the 
Father  and  those  wlio  maintained  that  it  was  the  same, 
filled  the  world  with  riot  and  hatred.  The  Catholics  tell 
how  an  Arian  Emperor  caused  eighty  orthodox  priests  to  be 
drowned  on  a  single  occasion  ;  ^  how  thi-ee  thousand  persons 
perished  in  the  riots  that  convulsed  Constantinople  when  the 
Arian  Bishop  Macedonius  sujjei-seded  the  Athanasian  Paul  ;* 
how  George  of  Cappadocia,  the  Arian  Bishop  of  Alexandria, 


'  St.  Augustine  reckoned  eighty-  '  S<crates,  //.  E.,  iv.  16.     This 

e'ght  sects  hs  existing  in  his  time.  anecdote    is    much    doubted     by 

■■^  See   a    full    account  of  these  modern  historians, 
persecutions   in    Tillemont,  Mem.  *  Milman's  Hist.ofChristianitij^ 

(i'Histoire  eccles.  tome  vi.  (ed.  1867).  vol.  ii.  p.  422. 


196  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

caused  the  widows  of  the  Athanasian  party  to  be  scoiirgeil 
on  the  soles  of  their  feet,  the  holy  virgins  to  be  stripped 
naked,  to  be  flogged  with  the  prickly  branches  of  palm-trees, 
or  to  be  slowly  scorched  over  fires  till  they  abjured  their 
creed.'  The  triumph  of  the  Catholics  in  Egypt  was  accom- 
panied (if  we  may  believe  the  solemn  assertions  of  eighty 
Arian  Bishops)  by  every  variety  of  plunder,  murder,  sacri- 
lege, and  outrage,'^  and  Arius  himself  was  probably  poi- 
soned by  Catholic  hands.  ^  The  followers  of  St.  Cyril  of 
Alexandiia,  who  were  chiefly  monks,  filled  their  city  with 
riot  and  bloodshed,  wounded  the  prefect  Orestes,  dragged  the 
pure  and  gifted  Hypatia  into  one  of  their  chm-ches,  murdered 
her,  tore  the  flesh  from  her  bones  with  shaip  shells,  and, 
having  stripped  her  body  naked,  flung  her  mangled  remains 
into  the  flames."*  In  Epbesus,  duiing  the  contest  between 
St.  Cyril  and  the  Nestorians,  the  cathedral  itself  was  the 
theatre  of  a  fierce  and  bloody  conflict.^  Constantinople,  on 
the  occasion  of  the  deposition  of  St.  Chrysostom,  was  for 
several  days  in  a  condition  of  absolute  anarchy.**  After  the 
Council  of  Chalcedon,  Jerusalem  and  Alexandria  were  again 
couAulsed,  and  the  bishop  of  the  latter  city  was  murdered 
in  his  baptistery.^  About  fifty  years  later,  when  the  Mono- 
physite  controversy  was  at  its  height,  the  palace  of  the 
emperor  at  Constantinople  was  blockaded,  the  churches  were 
besieged,  and  the  streets  commanded  by  furious  bands  of 
contending  monks.'     Repressed  for  a  time,  the  riots  broke 

'  St.     Athanasius,      Historical  peems   to   liave  been   regarded  as 

Treatises  (Library  of  the  Fathers),  such,  but  it  was  a  matter  of  con- 

pp.  192,  284.  troversy  whether  it  was  a  miracle 

*  Milman,i72s;.  of  CkristianitT/,  or  a  murder. 

ii.  pp.  436-437.  *  Socrates,  H.  E.,  vii.  13-1.5. 

*  The  death  of  Arius,  as  is  well  '  Miiman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Chris- 
known,  took  place   suddenly   (his  tianifi/,  vol.  i.  pp.  214-21;i. 
bowels,  it  is  said,  coming  out)  when  *  Miiman,  Hist,  of  Christianili) . 
be   was  just    about   to    make   his  vol.  iii.  p.  145. 

triumphal    entry  into   the   Cathc-  '' MWmAU,  Hist,  nf  Latin  Chrv^ 

dral  of  Constantinople.    The  deiith     tiaiiity.  vol.  i.  pp.  290-291. 
^though    pfjssibly   natural)    never  *  Ibid.  vol.  i.  pp.  310-311. 


FROM  CONST ANTINE  TO  CHARLEMAGNE. 


197 


out  two  years  after  with  an  increased  ferocity,  and  almost 
every  leading  city  of  the  East  was  filled  by  the  monks  with 
bloodshed  and  with  outrage.  ^  St.  Augustine  himself  is  accused 
of  having  excited  eveiy  kind  of  popular  persecution  again.st 
the  Semi-Pelagians. 2  The  Councils,  animated  by  an  almost 
frantic  hatred,  urged  on  by  their  anathemas  the  rival  sects.' 
In  the  'Robber  Council'  of  Ephesus,  Flavianus,  the  Bishop 
of  Constantinople,  was  kicked  and  beaten  by  the  Bishop  of 
Alexandria,  or  at  least  by  his  followers,  and  a  few  days  later 
died  from  the  effect  of  the  blows.'*  In  the  contested  election 
that  resulted  in  the  election  of  St.  Damasus  as  Pope  of  Rome, 
though  no  theological  question  appears  to  have  been  at  issue, 
the  riots  were  so  fierce  that  one  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
corpses  were  foimd  ia  one  of  the  churches.*     The  precedent 

'  Milman,  Hist,  of  Latin  Ckns- 
tianity,  vol.  i.  pp.  314-318. 
Dean  Milman  thus  sums  up  the 
history :  '  Monks  in  Alexandria, 
monks  in  Antioch,  monks  in  Jeru- 
salem, monks  in  Constantinople, 
decide  peremptorily  on  orthodoxy 
and  heterodoxy.  The  bishops 
themselves  cower  before  them. 
Macedonius  in  Constantinople,  Fla- 
vianns  in  Antioch,  Elias  in  Jeru- 
salem, condemn  themselves  and 
abdicate,  or  are  driven  from  their 
sees.  Persecution  is  universal  — 
persecution  by  every  means  of  vio- 
lence and  cruelty;  the  only  question 
is,  in  whose  hands  is  the  power  to 
persecute.  .  .  .  Bloodshed,  murder, 
treachery,  assassination,  even  dur- 
ing the  public  worship  of  God^ 
these  are  the  frightful  means  by 
which  each  party  strives  to  main- 
tain its  opinions  and  to  defeat  its 
adversary.' 

'•*  See  a  striking  passage  from 
Julianus  of  Eclana,  cited  by  Mil- 
man,  Hist,  of  Latin  Christianity, 
vol.  i.  p.  164. 

'Nowhere  is  Christianitv  less 


attractive  than  in  the  Councils  of 
the  Church.  .  .  .  Intrigue,  injus- 
tice, violence,  decisions  on  authority 
alone,  and  that  the  authority  of  a 
turbulent  majority,  .  .  .  detract 
from  the  reverence  and  impugn  the 
judgments  of  at  least  the  later 
Councils.  The  close  is  almost  in- 
variablj'  a  terrible  anathema,  in 
which  it  is  impossible  not  to  dis- 
cern the  tones  of  human  hatred,  of 
arrogant  triumph,  of  rejoicing  at 
the  damnation  imprecated  against 
the  humiliated  adversary.' — Ibid, 
vol.  i.  p.  202. 

■•  See  the  account  of  this  scene  i  n 
Gibbon,  Decline  and  Fall.  ch.  xlvii. ; 
Milman,  Hi.'it.  of  Latin  Christianity, 
vol.  i.  p.  26.3.  There  is  a  con- 
flict of  authorities  as  to  whether 
the  Bishop  of  Alexandria  himself 
kicked  his  adversary,  or,  to  speak 
more  correctly,  the  act  which  is 
charged  against  him  by  some  con- 
temporary writers  is  not  charged 
against  him  by  others.  The  vio- 
lence was  certainly  done  by  his 
followers  and  in  his  presence. 
'  Ammianue  MarctUinus.xxvii.:? 


45 


198  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

of  the  Jewish  pei-secutions  of  idolatry  having  been  adduced 
by  St.  Cyprian,  in  the  thii'd  centmy,  in  favour  of  excom- 
munication,' was  urged  by  Optatus,  in  the  reign  of  Constan- 
tiiie,  in  favour  of  persecuting  the  Donatists;^  in  the  next 
.•eign  "we  find  a  large  body  of  Christians  presenting  to  the 
emperor  a  petition,  based  upon  this  precedent,  imploring 
him  to  destroy  by  force  the  Pagan  worship.^  About  fifteen 
years  later,  the  whole  Christian  Church  was  prepared,  on  the 
same  gi-ounds,  to  sup])oi-t  the  persecuting  policy  of  St. 
A.mbix»se,^  the  contending  sects  having  found,  in  the  duty  of 
crushing  religious  libert}',  the  solitary  tenet  on  which  they 
were  agreed.  The  most  unaggressive  and  unobtrusive  forms 
of  Paganism  were  persecuted  with  the  same  ferocity.*  To 
ofier  a  sacrifice  was  to  commit  a  capital  offence ;  to  hang  up 
a  simple  chaplet  was  to  incur  the  forfeiture  of  an  estate. 
The  noblest  works  of  Asiatic  architecture  and  of  Greek 
sculpture  perished  by  the  sume  iconoclasm  that  shattci'ed  the 
humble  temple  at  which  tlie  peasant  loved  to  pray,  or  the 
household  gods  which  consecrated  his  home.  There  were  no 
vai-ieties  of  belief  too  minute  for  the  new  intolerance  to 
embitter.  The  question  of  the  proper  time  of  celebrating 
Easter  was  believed  to  involve  the  issue  of  salvation  oi 
damnation ;  ^  and  when,  long  after,  in  the  fourteenth  century, 


'  C'vprian,  Ep.  Ixi.  almost  the  unanimous  applau!=e  of 

^  ^lilmari,  UUt.  of  Christ  ianily,  the    Christian    ■Nvorld.' — Milman's 

vol.  ii.  p.  306.  Hist,  of  Christianity,  vol.  iii.  p.  159. 

'  Ihid.  iii.  10.  *  See   the   Tiieodosian  laws  of 

♦ '  By  this  time  the  Old  Testa-  Paganism, 
ment  hinguago  and  sentiment  with  "  This  jippoars  from  the  vrliDle 
regard  to  idolatry  were  completuly  liislory  of  the  controversy  :  buttlie 
incorporated  -vrilh  the  Christian  prevailing  feeling  is,  I  tliink,  ex- 
feeling;  and  -when  Ambrose  en-  pnssed  with  peculiar  vividness  i", 
forced  on  a  Christian  Emperor  the  the  fallowing  passage: — 'EadnioT 
facred  du;'/  of  intolerance  against  fays  (following  the  words  of  Bede) 
opinions  and  practices  which  in  Colman's  times  there  was  a  sharp 
Bcarcely  a  century  before  had  been  controversy  alx)ut  the  observing  of 
the  established  religion  of  the  Easter,  and  other  rules  of  life  fot 
Empire,  hie  zeal  was  supported  by  churchmen  ;    therefore,   this  ques 


from:  constantine  to  Charlemagne.  199 

the  question  of  the  natui-e  of  the  light  at  the  transfigura- 
tion was  discussed  at  Constantinople,  those  who  refused  to 
admit  that  that  light  was  uncreated,  were  deprived  of  the 
honours  of  Chi-istian  burial.^ 

Together  with  these  legislative  and  ecclesiastical  measures, 
a  literature  arose  surpassing  in  its  mendacious  ferocity  any 
other  the  world  had  known.  The  polemical  writers  habitually 
painted  as  daemons  those  who  diverged  from  the  orthodox 
belief,  gloated  with  a  vindictive  piety  over  the  sufferings  oi 
the  heretic  upon  earth,  as  upon  a  Divine  punishment,  and 
sometimes,  with  an  almost  superhuman  malice,  passing  in 
imagination  beyond  the  threshold  of  the  grave,  exulted  in 
no  ambiguous  terms  on  the  tortures  which  they  beUeved  to 
be  reserved  for  him  for  ever.  A  few  men,  such  as  Synesius, 
Basil,  or  Salvian,  might  still  fijid  some  excellence  in  Pagans 
or  heretics,  but  their  candour  was  altogether  exceptional ; 
and  he  who  will  compare  the  beautiful  pictures  the  Greek 
poets  gave  of  their  Trojan  adversaries,  or  the  Roman  historians 
of  the  enemies  of  their  country,  with  those  which  ecclesiastical 
wi'iters,  for  many  centuries,  almost  invariably  gave  of  all 
who  were  opposed  to  their  Church,  may  easily  estimate  the 
extent  to  which  cosmopolitan  s}Tnpathy  had  retrograded. 

At  the  period,  however,  when  the  Western  monasteries 
began  to  discharge  theii*  intellectual  functions,  the  supremacj 
of  Catholicism  was  neai-ly  established,  and  polemical  ardoui 
had  begun  to  wane.  The  literary  zeal  of  the  Church  took 
other  forms,  but  aU  were  deeply  tinged  by  the  monastic 
spirit.  It  is  difficult  or  impossible  to  conceive  what  would 
have  been  the  intellectual  futui-e  of  the  world  had  Catholicism 
never  arisen — what  principles  or  impiJses  would  have  guided 
the  coui'se  of  the  human  mind,  or  what  new  institutions 


tion  deservedly  excited  the  minds  run,  or  h;id  run  in  v.-tin. — King's 

and  feeling  of  ninny  people,  fearing  Hist,  of  (he  Church  of  Ireland,  book 

lest;  periiaps,  after  having  received  li.  ch.  vi. 
the  name  of  Christians,  they  should  '  Gibbon,  chap.  Ixiii. 


200  HISTORY    OF    EUnorEAN    MORALS. 

would  have  been  created  for  its  culture.  Under  the  influence 
of  Catholicism,  the  monastery  became  the  one  sphere  of 
intellectual  labour,  and  it  continued  during  many  centuries 
to  occupy  that  position.  "Without  entering  into  anything 
resem})Iing  a  literary  history,  which  would  be  foreign  to  the 
objects  of  the  present  work,  I  shall  endeavour  briefly  to 
estimate  the  manner  in  which  it  discharged  its  functions. 

The  first  idea  that  is  naturally  suggested  by  the  mention 
of  the  intellectual  services  of  monasteries  is  the  preservation 
of  the  writings  of  the  Pagans.  I  have  already  observed 
that  among  the  eai'ly  Christians  theie  was  a  marked  difierence 
on  the  subject  of  then-  writings.  The  school  which  was 
represented  by  Tertullian  regarded  them  with  abhoi'rence ; 
while  the  Platonists,  who  were  represented  by  Justin  Martyr, 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  and  Origen,  not  merely  recognised 
with  great  cordiality  theii'  beauties,  but  even  imagined  that 
they  could  detect  in  them  both  the  traces  of  an  oi-iginal 
Divine  inspiiution,  and  plagiarisms  from  the  Jewish  writings. 
While  avoiding,  for  the  most  part,  these  extremes,  St.  Augus- 
tine, the  gi'eat  organiser  of  Western  Christianity,  treats  the 
Pagan  writings  with  appreciative  respect.  He  had  himself 
ascribed  his  first  conversion  fi'om  a  course  of  vice  to  the 
*  Hortensius '  of  Cicero,  and  his  works  are  full  of  discrimi- 
nating, and  often  very  beautiful,  applications  of  the  old 
Koman  literature.  The  attempt  of  Julian  to  prevent  the 
Christians  from  teaching  the  classics,  and  the  extreme  resent- 
ment which  that  attempt  elicited,  show  how  highly  the 
Christian  leaders  of  that  period  valued  this  form  of  education ; 
and  it  was  naturally  the  more  cherished  on  account  of  the 
contest.  The  influence  of  Neoplatonism,  the  baptism  oi 
multitudes  of  n<jD)inal  Cliristians  after  Constantine,  and  the 
decline  of  zeal  which  necessarily  acconi])anied  prosperity, 
had  all  in  diflerent  ways  the  same  tendency.  In  Synesiua 
we  have  the  cvirious  phenomenon  of  a  bishop  who,  not  con- 
tent  witli   proclaiming  himself  the  admiring  friend  of  the 


KROM    CONSTANTINE    TO   CHARLEMAGNE.  201 

pagan.  Hypatia,  openly  declared  liis  complete  disbelief  in  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  and  his  firm  adhesion  to  the  Pla- 
tonic doctrine  of  the  pre-existence  of  souls.'  Had  the 
ecclesiastical  theory  prevailed  which  gave  such  latitude  even 
to  the  leadei's  of  the  Church,  the  course  of  Christianity  would 
Lave  been  very  different.  A  reactionary  spirit,  however, 
arose  at  Rome.  The  doctrine  of  exclusive  salvation  supplied 
it3  intellectual  basis ;  the  political  and  organising  genius  of 
t)ie  Roman  ecclesiastics  impelled  them  to  reduce  belief  into 
a  rigid  form ;  the  genius  of  St.  Gregory  guided  the  movement,^ 
and  a  series  of  historical  events,  of  which  the  ecclesiastical 
and  political  separation  of  the  "Western  empire  from  the 
speculative  Greeks,  and  the  invasion  and  conversion  of  the 
barbaiians,  were  the  most  important,  definitely  established 
the  ascendancy  of  the  Catholic  type.  In  the  convidsions 
that  followed  the  barbarian  invasions,  intellectual  energy  of 
a  secular  kind  almost  absolutely  ceased.  A  parting  gleam 
issued,  indeed,  in  the  sixth  century,  from  the  Court  of  Theo- 
doric,   at  Ravenna,  which  was  adorned  by  the  genius   of 

'  An  interesting  sketch  of  this  cienlly  manifested  in  his  famoua 

very  interesting  prelate  has  lately  and  very  curious  letter  to  Des-ide- 

been  -written  by  M.  Druon,  Etude  rius,  Bishop  of  Vienae,  rebuking 

siir  la  Vie  et  les  Qiuvres  rfe  Syne-  him  for  having  tauaht  certain  per- 

sius  (Paris,  1859).  sons    Pagan    literature,    and  rhus 

*  Tradition  has  pronounced  Gre-  mingled   'the  praises  of  Jupiter 

gory  the  Great  to  have  been  tlie  with  the  praises  of  Christ;'  doing 

destroyer  of  the  Palatine  library,  what  woidd  be  impious  even  for  a 

and  to  have  been  especially  zealous  religious     layman,   'polluting  the 

in  burning  the  "writings  of  Livy,  mind -with  the  blasphemous  praises 

because  they  described  the  achieve-  of  the  wicked.'     Some  curious  evi- 

jnents  of   the   Pagan  gcds.      For  dence  of  the  feelings  of  the  Chris- 

these    charges,    however   (which  I  tians  of  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth 

am    sorry  to  find  repeated    by  so  centuries,  about  Pagan  literature, 

eminent  a  writer  as  Dr.  Draper),  is  given  in  Guingueii^,  Hist,  litte- 

there  is  no  real  evidence,  for  they  raire  de  Fltalie,  tome  i.  p.  29-31, 

nre  not  found  in  any  writer  earlier  and  some  legends  of  a  later  period 

than    the   twelfth  century.      (See  are  Gindidly  related  by  one  of  the 

Bayle,  i>tV/.  art.  'Greg.')     The  ex-  most  enthusiastic  English  advocates 

treme   contempt   of    Gregory    for  of  the   Middle   Accf.     (Maitland, 

Pagan  literature  is,  however,  suffi-  Dark  Affcs.) 


202  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Boethius,  and  the  talent  of  Cassiodorus  and  Symmachus ; 
but  after  this  time,  for  a  long  period,  literature  consisted 
almost  exclusively  of  sermons  and  Lives  of  saints,  which 
were  composed  in  the  monasteries.^  Gregory  of  Toui-s 
was  succeeded  as  an  annalist  by  the  still  feebler  Frede- 
garius,  and  there  was  then  a  long  and  a})solute  blank.  A 
few  outlying  countries  showed  some  faint  animation.  St. 
Leander  and  St.  Isidore  planted  at  Seville  a  school,  which 
flom-ished  in  the  seventh  century,  and  the  distant  monas- 
teries of  Ireland  continued  somewhat  later  to  he  the 
receptacles  of  learning ;  hut  the  i-est  of  Euro])e  sank  into  an 
almost  absolute  torpor,  till  the  rationalism  of  Abelard,  and 
the  events  that  followed  the  crusades,  began  the  revival  of 
learning.  The  principal  service  which  Catholicism  rendered 
during  this  period  to  Pagan  litei'ature  was  probal)ly  the  ])er- 
petuation  of  Latin  as  a  sacred  language.  Tlie  complete 
absence  of  all  curiosity  about  that  literature  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  Greek  was  suffered  to  become  almost  absolutely 
extinct,  though  there  was  no  time  when  the  Western  nations 
had  not  some  relations  with  the  Greek  empire,  or  when 
pilgi-images  to  the  Holy  Land  altogether  ceased.  The  study 
of  the  Latin  classics  was  for  the  most  part  positively  di.s- 
couraged.  The  writers,  it  was  believed,  were  burning  in 
hell ;  the  monks  were  too  inflated  with  their  imaginary 
knowledge  to  regard  with  any  i-e.sj)ect  a  Pagan  writer,  and 
periodical  panics  about  the  approaching  termination  of  the 


'  Probably  the  best  account  of  England  attained  its  lowest  point 

tlie   inteHectual    history  of   these  somewhat  later.     Of  the  prear  pro- 

t\mca  is  still  to  be  found  in  the  ad-  tecrors  of  learning  Theodorie  was 

inirable  introductory  chapters  with  unable  to   M'rito    (see    Giiinguen^, 

which    the    Benedictines    prefaced  tome   i.   p.   31),  and   Charlemagno 

each  century  ot'thejp //w^/j7('<rair«  (Kginhard)    only    began  to  learn 

de   la   France.     'J"ho    Benedictines  when   advanced  in   lite,    and    was 

tliink    (with    Ilallam)     that     the  never  quite  able  to  master  the  nc- 

eichth  century  was,  on  the  whole,  complishment.      Alfred,    however 

thedarkeston  the  continent,  though  was  distinguished  in  literat'iro. 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  203 

world  continually  checked  any  desire  for  secular  learning.' 
It  was  the  custom  among  some  monks,  when  they  were  under 
the  discipline  of  silence,  and  desii-ed  to  ask  for  Vii-gil,  Horax?e, 
or  any  other  Gentile  work,  to  indicate  their  wish  by  scratching 
their  ears  like  a  dog,  to  which  animal  it  was  thought  the 
Pagans  might  be  reasonably  compared.  ^  The  monasteries 
contained,  it  is  said,  during  some  time,  the  only  libraries  in 
Europe,  and  were  therefore  the  sole  receptacles  of  the  Pagan 
manuscripts ;  but  we  cannot  infer  from  this  that,  if  the 
monasteries  had  not  existed,  similar  libraries  would  not  have 
been  called  ijito  being  in  their  place.  To  the  occasional 
industry  of  the  monks,  in  copying  the  works  of  antiquity, 
we  must  oppose  the  industry  they  displayed,  though  chiefly 
at  a  somewhat  later  period,  in  scraping  the  ancient  parch- 
ments, in  order  that,  having  obliterated  the  wiiting  of  the 
Pagans,  they  might  cover  them  with  their  own  legends.  ^ 

There  are  some  aspects,  however,  in  which  the  monastic 
period  of  literature  apjjears  eminently  beautiful.     The  fret- 


'  The  belief  that  the  world  was  tury,  speaks  of  it  as  very  prevalent 

just  about  to  end  was,  as  is  well  {Prologue  to  the  First  Book);  and 

known,  very   general    among   the  St.  Gregory  tiie  Great,   about  the 

e  irly     Cliristians,      and      greatly  same  time,  constantly  expresses  it. 

affected  their  lives.     It  appears  in  The  panic  that  filled  Europe  at  the 

the    New    Testiment,    and     very  end  of  the  tenth  century  has  been 

clearly  in   the  epistle  ascribed  to  often  described. 
Barnabas  in  the  first  century.  The  ^  Maitland's  Bark  Ages,  p.  403. 

persecutions   of    the    second    and  *  This     passion     for    scraping 

tiiird  centuries  revived  it,  and  both  MSS.  became  common,  according  to 

TertuUian  and  Cyprian  {in  Ds'ite-  Montfaucon,  after  the  twelfth  cen- 

inauMffz)  strongly  assert  it.     "With  tury.  (Maitland,  p.  40.)    According 

the  triumph   of  Christianity    the  to  HalLvni,  however  {Middle  Ages, 

apprehension  for  a  time  subsided  ;  ch.  ix.  part  i.),  it  must  have  begun 

but  it  reappeared  with  great  force  earlier,  being  chiefly  caused  by  the 

when  the  di.ssolution  of  the  Empire  cessation    or    great  diminution    of 

was  manifestly  impending,  when  it  the  supply  of   Egyptiikn  papyrus, 

was  accomplished,  and  in  the  pro-  in  consequence  of  the  capture   of 

ionged  anarchy  and  suffering  that  Alexandria  by  the  Saracens,  early 

ensued.     Gregoryof  Tours,  writing  in  the  seventh  century, 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixth  cen- 


204  HISTORY    OF    ELUOPEAN    MORAL? 

fulness  and  impatience  and  exti-eme  tension  of  mwlern  literary 
life,  the  many  anxieties  that  paralyse,  and  the  feverish  craving 
for  applause  that  perverts,  so  many  noble  intellects,  were 
then  unknown.     Severed  from  all  the  cares  of  active  life,  in 
the  deep  calm  of  the  monastery,  where  the  turmoil  of  the 
outer  world  could  never  come,  the  monkish  scholar  pvu-sued 
his  studiss  in  a  spirit  which  has  now  almost  faded  from  the 
world.     No  doubt  had  ever  disturbed  his  mind.     To  him  the 
problem  of  the  universe  seemed  solved.     Expatiating  for  ever 
with  unfaltering  fiith  upon  the  unseen  world,  he  had  learnt 
to  live  for  it  alone.     His  hopes  were  not  fixed- upon  human 
greatness  or  fame,  but  upon  the  pardon  of  his  sins,  and  the 
lewards  of  a  happier  world.     A  crowd  of  quaint  and  often 
beautiful    legends   illustrate  the  deep  union   that  subsisted 
between  literature  and  religion.     It  is  related  of  Csedmon, 
the  first  great  poet  of  the  Anglo  Saxons,  that  he  foimd  in  the 
secular  life  no  vent  for  his  hidden  genius.     "When  the  war- 
liors  assembled  at  theii*  banquets,  sang  in  turn  the  praises  of 
war  or  beauty,  as  the  instrument  passed  to  him,  he  rose  and 
went  out  with  a  sad  heart,  for  he  alone  was  unable  to  weave 
his  tho\ights  in  vei-se.     Wearied  and  desponding  he  lay  down 
to  rest,  when  a  figure  appeared  to  him  in  his  dream  and  com- 
manded him  to  sing  the  Creation  of  tlie  World.     A  trans- 
port of  religious  fervour  tlirilled  his  brain,  his  imprisoned 
intellect  was  unlocked,   and   he  soon   became  the   foremost 
poet  of  his  land.'     A  Spanish  boy,  having  long  tried  in  vain 
to  master  his  task,  and  driven  to  despair'  by  the  severity  of 
his  teacher,  ran  away  from  his  father's  Iiome.     Tired  with 
wandering,  and  full  of  anxious  thoughts,  he  sat  down  to  rest 
by  the  margin  of  a  well,  when  his  eye  was  caught  by  the 
deep  furrow  in  the  stone.     He  asked  a  girl  who  was  drawing 
waUjr  to  explain  it,  and  she  told  him  that  it  had  been  worn 
by  tlie  constant  attrition  of  the  rope.     The  poor  boy,  who 


'  Bedc.  H.  E.  iv.  24. 


FKOM    CONSTAMINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  205 

was  already  full  of  remorse  for  what  he  had  done,  recognised 
in  the  reply  a  Divine  intimation.  '  If,'  he  thought, '  by  daily 
use  the  soft  rope  could  thus  penetrate  the  hard  stone,  surely 
a  long  perseverance  could  overcome  the  dulness  of  my 
brain.'  He  returned  to  his  father's  house ;  he  laboured  with 
redoubled  earnestness,  and  he  lived  to  be  the  great  St.  Isidore 
of  Spain.  ^  A  monk  who  had  led  a  vicious  life  was  saved,  it 
is  said,  from  hell,  because  it  was  found  that  his  sins,  though 
V3ry  numerous,  were  just  outnumbered  by  the  letters  of  a 
ponderous  and  devout  book  he  had  written.^  Tbe  Holy 
Spirit,  in  the  shape  of  a  dove,  had  been  seen  to  kispu-e  St. 
Gregory;  and  the  Avi-itings  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  of 
several  other  theologians,  had  been  expressly  applauded  by 
(Jhi-ist  or  by  his  saints.  AMien,  twenty  years  after  death,  the 
tomb  of  a  certain  monkish  writer  was  opened,  it  was  found 
that,  although  the  remainder  of  the  body  had  crumbled  into 
dust,  the  hand  that  had  held  the  pen  remained  flexible  and 
undecayed.3  A  yoimg  and  nameless  scholar  was  once  bm-ied 
near  a  convent  at  Bonn.  The  night  after  his  funeral,  a  nun 
whote  cell  overlooked  the  cemetery  was  awakened  by  a  bril- 
liant light  that  filled  the  room.  She  started  up,  imagining 
that  the  day  had  dawned,  but  on  looking  out  she  found  that 
it  was  still  night,  though  a  dazzling  splendour  was  around. 
A  female  form  of  matchless  loveliness  was  bendinsr  over  the 
scholar's  grave.  The  effluence  of  her  beauty  filled  the  aii- 
with  light,  and  she  clasped  to  her  heart  a  snow-white  dove 
that  rose  to  meet  her  from  the  tomb.     It  was  the  Mother  of 


'  Mariana,  Bt  Reims  Hispan'tp,  be  .iddiiced— a  remarkable  instance 

vi,  7.     Mariana  saj-s  tlie  stone  was  of  the  advantages  of  a  liiffuse  style. 
in  his  time  preserved  as  a  relic.  '  Digby.  Mores  Catholici,  book 

-  Odericus    Vitalis,    qiioted  by  x.  p.  246.     Mattliew  of  "Westniin- 

JFaitland  {Dark  Ages,  pp.  268-269).  ster  tells  of  a  certain  king  who  was 

Tlio  monk  was  restored  to  life  that  very    cha)'itable,  and  whose  right 

ho  miglit  have  an  opportunity  of  hand  (which   had  assuaged   many 

reformation.     The   escape    was    a  sorrows)  remained  undeoayed  after 

narrow  one,  for  there  was  only  one  death  (a.d.  644). 
letter  against  which  no  sin  could 


206  HISTORY    OF    ECROP£AN    MORALS. 

God  come  to  receive  the  soxil  of  the  martyi*ed  scholai- ;  '  for 
scholars  too,'  adds  the  old  chi'onicler,  *  are  martyrs  if  thoy 
live  in  puiitj  and  labour  with  courage.' ' 

But  legends  of    this  kind,  though  not  without  a  veiy 
real  beautv,  must  not  blind  us  to  the  fact  that  the  period  of 
Catholic  ascendancy  was   on   the   whole  one   of    the   most 
deplorable  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind.     The  energies 
of  Chiistendom  were  divei-ted  from  all  useful  and  progressivp 
studies,  and  were  wholly  expended  on  theological  disquisi- 
tions.    A  crowd  of  supei-stitions,  attributed  to  infallible  wis- 
dom, ban-ed  the  path  of  knowledge,  and  the  charge  of  magic, 
or  the  charge  of  heresy,  crashed  e\'ery  bold  enquii-y  in  th** 
sphere  of  physical  nature  or  of  opinions.     Above  all,  th*< 
conditions  of  true  enquuy  had  been  cursed  by  the  Church. 
A  bhnd  unquestioning  credulity  was  inculcated  as  the  first 
of  duties,  and  the  habit  of  doubt,  the  impartiality  of  a  sus- 
pended judgment,  the  desii'e  to  hear  both  sides  of  a  disputed 
question,  and  to  emancipate  the  judgment  from  uni-easoning 
prejudice,  were  all  in  consequence  condemned.     The   belief 
in  the  guilt  of  eiTor  and  doubt  became  universal,  and  that 
belief  may  be  confidently  pronounced  to  be  the  most  i>erni- 
cioiis  supei*stition  that  has  ever  been  accredited  among  man- 
kind,    ^listaken  facts  are  rectified  by  enqiury.     ^Mistaken 
methods  of  research,  though  far  more  iaveterate,  are  gra 
dually  altered ;  but  the  spirit  that  slu-inks  from  enquii-y  as 
kinful,  and  deems  a  state  of  doubt  a  state  of  guilt,  is  the  most 
endui'ing  disease  that  can  afflict  the  mind  of  man.     Not  till 
the  education  of  Europe  pa.ssed  from  the  monasteries  to  the 
universities,  not  tiU  Mohammedan  science,  and  classical  free- 
thought,  and  industrial  independence  broke  the  sceptre  of 
the  Church,  did  the  intellectual  revival  of  Europe  begin. 

I  am  aware  that  so  strong  a  statement  of  the  intellectual 
J  ukne.ss  of  the  middle  ages  is  likely  to  encounter  oppositioc 


'  See  Uaurdau.  Hiet  de  la  PhUoMphie  scoUisHque,  »ome  i.  pp.  2^25, 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  207 

from  many  quai'ters.  The  blindness  which  the  philosophers 
of  the  eighteenth  centiuy  manifested  to  theii"  better  side  has 
produced  a  reaction  "n-hich  has  led  many  to  an  opposite,  and, 
I  believe,  :^r  more  eiToneous  extreme.  Some  liave  become 
eulogists  of  the  period,  through  love  of  its  distinctive  theo- 
loffical  doctriaes.  and  othei-s  through  archjeolosrical  enthusiasm, 
while  a  very  pretentious  and  dogmatic,  but,  I  think,  sometimes 
superficial,  school  of  writers,  who  loudly  boast  themselves  the 
regenerators  of  bistory,  and  ti-eat  with  supreme  contempt 
all  the  vaiieties  of  theological  opioion,  are  accustomed,  partly 
throiigh  a  very  shallow  historical  optimism  which  scarcely 
admits  the  possibility  of  retrogression,  and  pai-tly  through 
sympathy  -vs-ith  the  despotic  character  of  Catholicism,  to 
extol  the  medifeval  society  in  the  most  extravagant  terms. 
Without  enteiing  into  a  lenofthv  examination  of  this  sub- 
ject,  I  may  be  permitted  to  indicate  shortly  two  or  three 
fallacies  which  are  continually  displayed  in  their  apprecia- 
tions. 

It  is  an  undoubted  truth  that,  for  a  considerable  period, 
almost  all  the  knowledge  of  Europe  was  included  in  the 
monasteries,  and  fi-om  this  it  is  continually  inferred  that, 
had  these  institutions  not  existed,  knowledge  would  have 
been  absolutelv  extiucruished.  But  such  a  conclusion  I  con- 
ceive  to  be  altogether  untrue.  Diu-ing  the  period  of  the 
Pagan  empire,  intellectual  life  had  been  diffused  over  a  vast 
portion  of  the  globe.  Egypt  and  Asia  Minor  had  become 
gi-eat  centres  of  ci"s"ilisation.  Greece  was  still  a  land  of 
learning.  Spain,  Gaul,  and  even  Britain.'  were  full  of 
libraries  and  teachers.  The  schools  of  Xarbonne,  Aries. 
Bordeaux,  Toulouse,  Lyons,  Marseilles,  Poitiers,  and  Treves 
were  already  famous.  The  Chiistian  emperor  Gratian,  in 
A..D.  376,  carried  out  in  Gaul  a  system  similar  to  ttat  which 


•  On  the   progress   of   Roman  civilisation  in  Britain,  see  Taeitui^ 
Agricola,  xxi. 


208  HISTORY    OF    EL'ROPEAN    MORALS. 

had  already,  under  the  Antonines,  been  piu'sued  in  Italy, 
ordaining  that  teachers  should  ^■'e  supported  by  the  State  in 
every  leading  city.'  To  sxippose  that  Latin  literature, 
ha-vdng  been  so  widely  diffused,  coidd  have  totally  perished, 
cr  that  all  interest  in  it  could  have  permanently  eeavSed,  even 
under  the  extremely  unfavourable  circumstances  that  followed 
the  downfall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  the  Mohammedan 
invasions,  is,  I  conceive,  absurd.  If  Catholicism  had  never 
existed,  the  human  mind  would  have  sought  other  spheres 
for  its  development,  and  at  least  a  part  of  the  treasures  of 
antiquity  would  have  been  preserved  in  other  ways.  The 
monasteries,  as  corporations  of  peaceful  men  protected  from 
the  incui'sions  of  the  barbarians,  became  very  natui-ally  the 
reservoirs  to  which  the  streams  of  literature  flowed ;  but 
much  of  what  they  are  represented  as  creating,  they  had  in 
reality  only  attracted.  The  inviolable  sanctity  which  they 
secured  rendered  them  invaluable  receptacles  of  ancient 
leai-ning  in  a  period  of  anarchy  and  perpetual  war,  and  the 
industry  of  the  mouks  in  transcribing,  probably  more  than 
counterbalanced  their  industry  in  effacing,  the  classical 
writings.  The  ecclesiastical  ur.ity  of  Christendom  was  also 
of  extreme  importance  in  rendering  possible  a  general  inter- 
change of  ideas.  Whether  these  services  outweighed  the 
intellectual  evils  resulting  from  the  complete  diversion  of  the 
human  mind  from  all  secular  learning,  and  fiom  th(;  per- 
sistent inculcation,  as  a  matter  of  duty,  of  that  habit  of 
abject  credulity  which  it  is  the  first  task  of  the  intellectual 
reformer  to  eradicate,  may  be  reasonably  doubted. 

It  Ls  not  unfrequent,  again,  to  hear  the  preceding  fallacy 
stated  in  a  somewhat  different  form.  We  are  reminded  that 
almost  all  the  men  of  genius  during  several  centuries  were 
great  theologians,  and  we  are  asked  to  conceive  the  more 
Uian  Egji^tian  darkness  that  would  have  prevailed  had  the 


See  the  Benedictine  HUi.  litUr.  de  la  Franc:,  tome  i.  part  ii.  p.  9. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  209 

Catholic  theology  which  produced  them  not  existed.  Tliia 
judgment  resembles  that  of  the  prisoner  in  a  famous  passago 
of  Cicero,  who,  having  spent  his  entire  life  in  a  dark  dungeon, 
and  knowing  the  light  of  day  only  from  a  single  ray  wliich 
passed  through  a  fissure  in  the  wall,  infeiTcd  that  if  the 
wall  were  removed,  as  the  fissure  would  no  longer  exist,  all 
light  would  be  excluded.  JNIediseval  Catholicism  discouraged 
and  suppressed  in  every  way  secular  studies,  while  it  con- 
ferred a  monopoly  of  wealth  and  honour  and  power  upon 
the  distinguished  theologian.  Yery  naturally,  therefore,  it 
attracted  into  the  path  of  theology  the  genius  that  would 
have  existed  without  it,  but  would  under  other  circiunstancea 
have  been  displayed  in  other  forms. 

It  is  not  to  be  inferred,  however,  from  this,  that  mediaeval 
Catholicism  had  not,  in  the  sphere  of  intellect,  any  real 
creative  power.  A  great  moral  or  religious  enthusiasm 
always  evokes  a  certain  amount  of  genius  that  would  not 
otherwise  have  existed,  or  at  least  been  displayed,  and  the 
monasteries  were  peculiarly  fitted  to  develop  certain  casts 
of  mind,  wliich  in  no  other  sphere  could  have  so  perfectly 
expanded.  The  great  writings  of  St.  Thomas  Aquinas '  and 
his  followers,  and,  in  more  modern  times,  the  mas&ive  and 
conscientious  erudition  of  the  Benedictines,  will  always  make 
certain  periods  of  the  monastic  history  venerable  to  the 
scholar.  But,  when  we  remember  that  dui'ing  many 
centuries  nearly  every  one  possessing  any  literary  taste  or 
talents  became  a  monk,  when  we  recollect  that  these  monka 
were  familiar  with  the  language,  and  might  easily  have  been 
familiar  with  the  noble  literature,  of  ancient  Eome,  and  when 


'  A  biographer  of  St.  Thomas  est  non-seulement  son  clief-d'opuvro 

Aquinas      modestly      observ'cs  : —  maisaussi  cehii  do  Tcsprit  luiniuin.' 

'L'opiiiion  generakment  repandue  (! !) — Carle,   Hist.   de   ISt.-Thomat 

fiarmi  les  theolopiens  c'est  que  la  dAquin,j>.  140. 
Somme  de  Theolcgie  do  St.  Thomas 


210  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

we  also  consider  the  mode  of  their  life,  which  would  seem, 
from  its  freedom  from  care,  and  from  the  very  monotony  of  its 
routine,  peculiai-ly  calculated  to  impel  them  to  study,  we 
can  hardly  fail  to  wonder  how  very  little  of  any  real  value 
they  added,  for  so  long  a  period,  to  the  knowledge  of  man- 
kind. It  is  indeed  a  remarkable  fact  that,  even  in  the  ages 
when  the  Catholic  ascendancy  was  most  perfect,  some  of  the 
greatest  achievements  were  either  opposed  or  simply  external 
to  ecclesiastical  influence.  Roger  Bacon,  having  been  a  monk, 
is  frequently  spoken  of  as  a  creature  of  Catholic  teaching. 
But  there  never  was  a  more  striking  instance  of  the  force  of 
a  great  genius  in  resisting  the  tendencies  of  his  age.  At  a 
time  when  physical  science  was  continually  neglected,  dis- 
couraged, or  condemned,  at  a  time  when  all  the  great  prizes 
of  the  world  were  open  to  men  who  pursued  a  very  difierent 
course,  Bacon  applied  himself  with  transcendent  genius  to 
the  study  of  nature.  Fourteen  years  of  his  life  were  spent 
in  prison,  and  when  he  died  his  name  was  blasted  as  a 
magician.  The  medioeval  laboi-atories  were  chiefly  due  to 
the  pui'smt  of  alchemy,  or  to  Mohammedan  encouragement. 
The  inventions  of  the  mariner's  compass,  of  gunpowder,  and 
of  rag  paper  were  all,  indeed,  of  extreme  importance ;  but  no 
part  of  the  credit  of  them  belongs  to  the  monks.  Their 
origin  is  involved  in  much  obscurity,  but  it  is  almost  certain 
that  the  last  two,  at  all  events,  were  first  employed  in  Europe 
by  the  Mohammedans  of  Spain.  Cotton  paper  was  in  use 
among  these  as  early  as  1009.  Among  the  Christian  nations 
it  appears  to  have  been  unknown  till  late  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  Tlie  first  instance  of  the  employment  of  artillery 
among  Christian  nations  was  at  the  battle  of  Crecy,  but  tbo 
knowledge  of  gunpowder  among  them  has  been  traced  back 
as  far  as  1338.  There  Ls  abundant  evidence,  however,  of  ita 
employment  in  Spain  by  Mohammedans  in  several  sieges  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  and  even  in  a  V)attle  between  thu 
Moors  of  Senile  and  those  of  Tunis  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh 


FEOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CUARLEMAGNE.  21] 

century.  •  In  ixivention,  indeed,  as  well  as  in  original  research, 
the  mediaeval  monasteries  were  singularly  barren.  They 
cultivated  formal  logic  to  great  perfection.  They  produced 
many  patient  and  laborious,  though,  for  the  most  part, 
wholly  uncritical  scholars,  and  many  philosophers  who. 
having  assumed  their  premises  with  unfaltering  faith,  reasoned 
from  them  with  admirable  subtlety ;  but  they  taught  men  to 
regard  the  sacrifice  of  secular  leai'uing  as  a  noble  thing ;  they 
impi'essed  upon  them  a  theory  of  the  habitual  government 
of  the  universe,  which  is  absolutely  untrue  ;  and  they  diffused, 
wherever  their  infliience  extended,  habits  of  credulity  and 
intolerance  that  are  the  most  deadly  poisons  to  the  human 
mind. 

It  is,  again,  very  frequently  observed  among  the  moi-e 
philosophic  eulogists  of  the  mediaeval  period,  that  although 
the  Catholic  Church  is  a  trammel  and  an  obstacle  to  the 
progress  of  civilised  nations,  although  it  would  be  scarcely 
possible  to  exaggerate  the  misery  her  persecuting  spirit  caused, 
when  the  human  mind  had  outstripped  her  teaching;  yet 
there  was  a  time  when  she  was  greatly  in  advance  of  the 
age,  and  the  complete  and  absolute  ascendancy  she  then 
exercised  was  intellectually  eminently  beneficial.  That  there 
is  much  truth  in  this  view,  I  have  myself  repeatedly  main- 
tained. But  when  men  proceed  to  isolate  the  former  period, 
and  to  make  it  the  theme  of  unqualified  eulogy,  they  fall,  I 
think,  into  a  grave  error.  The  evils  that  sprang  from  the 
later  period  of  Catholic  ascendancy  were  not  an  accident  or 
a  perversion,  but  a  normal  and  necessary  consequence  of  the 
previous  despotism.  The  principles  which  were  imposed 
on  the  mediieval  world,  and  which  were  the  conditions  of  so 


'  See  Viardot,  Hist,  des  Arahes  known  in   Cliina — was  first  intro- 

%;i  Espogne,\'\.  142-1  (J6.    Prescott's  diiccd  into  Europe  by  the  Moham- 

Fcrclinand  and  Isahdla,    ch.    viii.  medans;  but  the  evidence  of  thie 

Viardot  contends  that  the  compass  appears  inconclusive. 
— which  appears  to  have  been  long 


212  HISTORY   OF    EUROPEAN    MORALi<." 

miich  of  its  distinctive  excellence,  were  of  such  a  natnre  that 
they  claimed  to  be  final,  and  could  not  possibly  be  discarded 
without  a  struggle  and  a  convulsion.  We  must  estimate 
the  influence  of  these  principles  considered  as  a  whole,  and 
diuing  the  entire  period  of  their  operation.  There  are  sonu 
poisons  which,  before  they  kill  men,  allay  pain  and  difl'usc 
a  soothing  sensation  through  the  frame,  "VVe  may  recognise 
the  hour  of  enjoyment  they  procure,  but  we  must  not  separate 
it  from  the  price  at  which  it  is  purchased. 

The  extremely  unfavourable  influence  tlie  Catholic 
Church  long  exercised  upon  intellectual  development  had 
important  moral  consequences.  Although  moral  progress 
does  not  necessarily  depend  upon  intellectual  progress  it  is 
materially  afiected  by  it,  intellectual  activity  being  the  most 
impoi'tant  element  in  the  gi-owth  of  that  great  and  com- 
plex organism  which  we  call  civilisation.  Tlie  mediaeval 
credulity  had  also  a  more  dii'ect  moral  influence  in  pro- 
ducing that  indifference  to  truth,  which  is  the  most  repul- 
sive feature  of  so  many  Catholic  writings.  The  very  large 
pai*t  that  must  be  assigned  to  deliberate  forgeries  in  the  early 
apologetic  literature  of  the  Church  we  have  already  seen;  and 
no  impartial  reader  can,  I  think,  investigate  the  innumerable 
grotesque  and  lying  legends  that,  duiing  the  whole  course  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  were  deliberately  palmed  upon  mankind  as 
undoubted  facts,  can  follow  the  histories  of  the  false  decretals, 
and  the  discussions  that  were  connected  with  them,  or  can 
observe  the  complete  and  absolute  incapacity  most  Catholic 
historians  have  di.splayed,  of  conceiving  any  good  thing  in  the 
ranks  of  their  opponents,  or  of  stating  with  common  fairness 
any  consideration  that  can  tell  against  their  cause,  withotit 
acknowledizinir  how  serious  and  how  inveterate  has  l^een  the 
evil.  There  have,  no  doubt,  been  many  noble  individual  cj- 
ccptions.  Yet  it  is,  I  believe,  diflicult  to  exaggerate  the 
extent  to  wliich  this  moral  defect  exists  in  most  of  the  ancient 
and  very  much  of  the  modem  literature  of  Catholicism.     It 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  213 

is  tliis  which,  makes  it  so  unspeakably  repulsive  to  all  inde- 
pendent and  imj^artial  thinkers,  and  has  led  a  great  German 
liistorian  ^  to  declare,  vith  much  bitterness,  that  the  phrase 
Christian  veracity  deserves  to  rank  with  the  phrase  Punic 
faith.  But  this  absolute  indifference  to  truth  whenevei 
falsehood  could  subserA'e  the  interests  of  the  Chiu-ch  is  per- 
fectly explicable,  and  was  found  in  multitudes  who,  in  other 
respects,  exhibited  the  noblest  vh-tue.  An  age  which  has 
ceased  to  value  impartiality  of  judgment  will  soon  cease  to 
value  accuracy  of  statement ;  and  when  credulity  is  inculcated 
as  a  \ii'tue,  falsehood  will  not  long  be  stigmatised  as  a  vice. 
When,  too,  men  are  firmly  convinced  that  salvation  can  only 
be  found  within  their  Church,  and  that  then."  Church  can  ab- 
solve from  all  guilt,  they  will  speedily  conclude  that  nothing 
can  possibly  be  wrong  which  is  beneficial  to  it.  They  ex- 
change the  love  of  truth  for  what  they  call  the  love  of  the 
truth.  They  regard  morals  as  derived  from  and  subordinate 
to  theology,  and  they  regulate  all  their  statements,  not  by  the 
standard  of  veracity,  but  by  the  interests  of  their  creed. 

Another  important  moral  consequence  of  the  monastic 
system  was  the  gi-eat  prominence  given  to  pecnniaiy  com- 
pensations for  crime.  It  had  been  at  fii-st  one  of  the  broad 
distinctions  between  Paganism  and  Christianity,  that,  while 
the  lites  of  the  former  were  for  the  most  part  unconnected 
with  moral  dispositions,  Chiistianity  made  purity  of  heart  an 
essential  element  of  all  its  worship.  Among  the  Pagans  a 
few  faint  eflbrts  had,  it  is  true,  been  made  in  this  direction. 
An  old  precept  or  law,  which  is  referred  to  l)y  Cicero,  and 
wliich  was  strongly  reiterated  by  ApoUonius  of  Tyana,  and 
the  Pythagoreans,  declared  that  '  no  impious  man  sho'dd 
dare  to  appease  the  anger  of  the  divinities  by  gifts  ; '  *  aii<l 
oracles  are  said  to  have  more  than  once  proclaimed  that  the 


'  Herd?r.  Leg.    ii.    9.      See,    too,    Philost 

*'Imfius    ne    audeto    placare     Apoll.  Tyan.  i.  11. 
donis  iram  Deonim.' — Cicero,  I)e 

4-fi 


214  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

hecatombs  of  noble  oxen  -witli  gilded  horns  that  w(}re  offered 
up  ostentatiously  l)y  the  rich,  were  less  pleasing  to  the  gods 
than  the  wreaths  of  llowere  and  the  modast  and  reverential 
worshij:)  of  the  poor.'  In  general,  however,  in  the  Pagao 
world,  the  service  of  the  temple  had  little  or  no  connection 
witli  morals,  and  the  change  which  Christianity  effected  in 
this  respect  was  one  of  its  most  important  benefits  to  man- 
kind. It  was  natural,  however,  and  perhaps  ine\'itable,  that 
in  the  course  of  time,  and  under  the  action  of  very  various 
causes,  the  old  Pagan  sentiment  should  revive,  and  even  with 
an  increased  intensity.  In  no  respect  had  the  Christians 
been  more  nobly  distinguished  than  by  their  charity.  It  waa 
not  sui-prising  that  the  Fathers,  while  exerting  all  their  elo- 
quence to  stimulate  this  A-iitue — especially  during  the  cala- 
mities that  accompanied  the  dissolution  of  the  Empire — should 
have  dilated  in  extremely  strong  terms  upon  the  spiritual 
benefits  the  donor  would  receive  for  his  gift.  It  is  also  not 
sui-prising  that  this  selfish  calculation  should  gradually,  and 
among  hard  and  ignorant  men,  have  absorbed  all  othei-  mo- 
tives. A  curious  legend,  which  is  related  by  a  writer  of  the 
.seventh  century,  illustrates  the  kind  of  f-.'e'ing  that  had  ai-isen. 
The  Chi-istian  bishop  Synesius  succeeded  in  converting  a 
Pagan  named  Evagrius,  who  for  a  long  time,  however,  felt 
doubts  about  the  passage,  '  He  who  givetli  to  the  poor 
lendeth  to  the  Lord.'  On  his  conversion,  and  in  obedience 
to  this  vei*se,  he  gave  Synesius  three  hundred  pieces  of  gold 
to  be  distributed  among  the  poor ;  but  he  exacted  from  the 
bi.shop,  as  the  representative  of  Chi-ist,  a  promissory  note, 
engaging  that  he  should  be  repaid  in  the  future  world. 
Many  years  later,  Evagi-ius,  being  on  his  dcath-ljed,  com- 
manded his  sons,  wlien  they  buried  him,  to  place  the  note  in 
Lis  hand,  and  to  do  so  without  informing  Synesius.     Hi? 


'  There  are  three  or  tour  in.stances  of  this  related  by  Porphyry 
De  Ahstin.  Camia,  lib.  ii. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGiNE.  215 

i^'ing  iuj  miction  was  observed,  and  three  days  afterwards  he 
appeared  to  Synesius  in  a  dream,  told  him  that  the  debt  had 
\>een  paid,  and  ordeied  him  to  go  to  the  tomb,  where  he  would 
find  a  written  receipt.  Synesius  did  as  he  was  commanded, 
and,  the  grave  being  opened,  the  promissory  note  was  found 
in  the  hand  of  the  dead  man,  with  an  endorsement  declaring 
that  the  debt  had  been  paid  by  Christ.  The  note,  it  was  said, 
was  long  after  preserved  as  a  reKc  in  the  church  of  C}Tene.' 

The  kind  of  feeling  which  this  legend  displays  was  soon 
turned  with  tenfold  force  into  the  channel  of  monastic  life. 
A.  law  of  Constantine  accorded,  and  several  later  laws  en- 
larged, the  power  of  bequests  to  ecclesiastics.  Ecclesiastical 
pioperty  was  at  the  same  time  exonerated  from  the  public 
burdens,  and  this  measure  not  only  directly  as.sisted  its  in- 
crease, but  had  also  an  impoi-tant  indirect  influence ;  for,  when 
taxation  was  heavy,  many  laymen  ceded  the  ownei-ship  of 
their  estates  to  the  monasteries,  with  a  secret  condition  that 
they  should,  as  vassals,  receive  the  revemies  unburdened  by 
taxation,  and  subject  only  to  a  slight  payment  to  the  monks 
as  to  their  feudal  lords. ^  The  monks  were  regarded  as  the 
trustees  of  the  poor,  and  also  as  themselves  typical  poor,  and 
all  the  promises  that  applied  to  those  who  gave  to  the  poor 
applied,  it  was  said,  to  the  benefactors  of  the  monasteries. 
The  monastic  chapel  also  contained  the  relics  of  saints  or 
sacred  images  of  mii-aculous  power,  and  throngs  of  worship- 

'  Moschus,   Praium  Spirifiiak  jete  comme  une  insulte  aux  pauvros 

(Rosweyde),  cap.  cxcv.    M.  Wallon  et  accept^  commo  une  aunione  par 

quotes  from  the  Life  of  St.-Jean  Jesus  Christ.' — Hisl.de  I'Esclacage, 

V AnmCinu r  an  even  stranger  event  tome  iii.  p.  397. 

vhich  happpned  to  St.  Peter  Telo-  I  may   mention   here  tliat  tlie 

nearius.     '  Pour  repousser  les  im-  ancient  Gauls  were   .said  to  have 

portunites  des  pauvres,  il  leur  jetait  been  accustomed  to  lend  money  on 

des   pierres.     Un  jour,  n'en  trou-  the  condition  of  its  being  repjiid  to 

vant  pas  sous  la  main,  il  leur  jeta  the  lender  in  the  next  life. — (Val. 

nn  pain  a  la  tete.    II  tomba  malade  Maxinius,  lib.  ii.  cap.  vi.  §  10.) 

et   eut  une   vision.      Ses   merites  *  Muratori,     Antich.     JtuliaKe, 

6taient  compt^s:  d'un  cote  etaient  diss.  Ixvii. 
tous  ses  crimes,  de  I'autre  ce  pain 


216  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

pers  were  attracted  by  the  miracles,  and  desired  to  place  them 
selves  under  the  protection,  of  the  saint.  It  is  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say  that  to  give  money  to  the  priests  was  for  several 
centuries  the  first  article  of  the  moral  code.  Political  minda 
may  have  felt  the  importance  of  aggrandising  a  pacific  and 
industrious  class  in  the  centre  of  a  disorganised  society,  and 
family  affection  may  have  predisposed  many  in  favour  of  in- 
stitutions which  contained  at  least  one  member  of  most 
families ;  but  in  the  overwhelming  majoiity  of  cases  the  mo- 
tive was  simple  sv;perstition.  In  seasons  of  sickness,  of 
danger,  of  sorrow,  or  of  remorse,  whenever  the  fear  or  the 
coDscience  of  the  woi-shipper  was  awakened,  he  hastened  to 
purchase  with  money  the  favour  of  a  saint.  Above  all,  in 
the  hoiu*  of  death,  when  the  terrors  of  the  future  world 
loomed  darkly  upon  his  mind,  he  saw  in  a  gift  or  legacy  to 
the  monks  a  sure  means  of  effacing  the  most  monstrous 
crimes,  and  secuiing  his  ultimate  happiness.  A  rich  man 
was  soon  scarcely  deemed  a  Christian  if  he  did  not  leave  a 
portion  of  his  property  to  the  Church,  and  the  chartei-s  of  iu- 
numerable  monasteries  in  every  part  of  Europe  attest  the 
vast  tracts  of  land  that  were  ceded  by  will  to  the  monks,  'for 
the  benefit  of  the  soul '  of  the  testator. ' 

It  has  been  observed  by  a  great  historian  that  we  may 
trace  three  distinct  phases  in  the  early  history  of  the  Church. 
In  the  first  period  religion  was  a  question  of  morals  ;  in  the 
second  period,  which  culminated  in  the  fifth  century,  it  had 
become  a  question  of  orthodoxy  ;  in  the  third  period,  which 
dates  from  the  seventh  century,  it  was  a  question  of  muni- 
ficence to  monasteries.'     The  despotism  of  Catholicism,  and 


'  See, on  the  causesof  the  wealth  tiellcment  ronsifte  dans  Tenseij^ne- 

of  the  monasteries,  two  admiralilo  nient  moral;   elle  avoit  exerc^  le.s 

dissertations  by  Muratori,  Avtiih.  cojurs   et  le.s  Ames  par  la  recherche 

Italia7ie,  Ixvii.,   Ixviii. ;    Hallam's  de  ce  qui  ^toitvraiment  beau,  vrai- 

Middle  Ages,  ch.  vii.  parti.  menthonneto.  Aucinquieme  si^cle 

'•^ '  Ix<rs   de   I'etablisBement   du  on  I'avoit  surtout  attiich(^e  a  I'or- 

chr^stianismelareligionavoi'esKen-  thrxioxie,  au  sep  ieme  on  I'avoit  r*^- 


FROM  CONSTANTIXE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  217 

the  ignorance  that  followed  the  barbarian  invasions,  had  re- 
pressed the  struggles  of  heresy,  and  in  the  period  of  almost 
absolute  dai'kness  that  continued  from  the  sixth  to  the 
twelfth  century,  the  theological  ideal  of  un(]uestioning  faith 
and  of  perfect  unanimity  was  all  but  realised  in  the  West. 
All  the  energy  that  in  previous  ages  had  been  expended  iu 
combating  heresy  was  now  expended  in  acquuing  wealth. 
The  people  compounded  for  the  most  atrocious  crimes  by  gifts 
to  shrines  of  those  saints  whose  intercession  was  supposed  to 
be  unfailing.  The  monks,  partly  by  the  natural  cessation  of 
their  old  enthusiasm,  partly  by  the  absence  of  any  hostile 
criticism  of  their  acts,  and  partly  too  by  the  very  wealth 
they  had  acquired,  sank  into  gi-oss  and  general  immorality. 
The  great  majority  of  them  had  probably  at  no  time  been 
either  saints  actuated  by  a  strong  religious  motive,  nor  yet 
diseased  and  desponding  minds  seeking  a  refuge  from  the 
world ;  they  had  been  simply  peasants,  of  no  extraordinary 
devotion  or  sensitiveness,  who  preferred  an  ensm-ed  subsist- 
ence, with  no  care,  little  laboiu-,  a  much  higher  social  position 
than  they  could  otherwise  acquire,  and  the  certainty,  as  they 
believed,  of  going  to  heaven,  to  the  laborious  and  precarious 
existence  of  the  serf,  relieved,  indeed,  by  the  privilege  of 
man-iage,  but  exposed  to  military  ser\'ice,  to  extreme  liard- 
ships,  and  to  constant  oppression.  Very  naturally,  when 
they  could  do  so  with  impunity,  they  broke  their  vows  of 
chastity.  "Very  natui-ally,  too,  they  availed  themselves  to  the 
full  of  the  condition  of  afliiirs,  to  draw  as  much  wealth  as 
possible  into  their  community.'  The  belief  in  the  approaching 


duite  a  la  Ijienfaisancc  envers  les  norance.     In  most  cases  ihej  wore 

euuvens.'  —  Sismondi,     Hist,     des  the  work  of  deliberate  imposture. 

Frangais,  tome  ii.  p.  50.  Every  cathedral  or  monastery  had 

'  Mr.  Hallam,  epeakinfj  of  the  its  tutelar  saint,  and  every   saint 

logends  of  the  miracles  of  saints,  his  legend,  fabricated  in  order  to 

e.iys :    '  It  must   not  be  supposed  enrich  the  churches  under  his  pro- 

that  these   alisurdities   were   pro-  tection,by  exaggerating  his  virtues, 

iuceil  as  well  as  nourished  by  ig-  his  miracles,  and  consequently  his 


218 


IIISTOUY    01"'    KUllOPEAN    MORALS. 


end  of  the  world,  especially  at  the  close  of  tlio  tontli  century, 
the  crusades,  which  gave  rise  to  a  prolitaljlo  traffic  in  tlie 
form  of  a  pccuiuary  commutation  of  vows,  and  the  black 
death,  which  produced  a  paroxysm  of  rclii,nou3  fanaticLsm, 
stimulated  the  movement.  In  the  monldsh  chronicles,  the 
merits  of  sovereigns  are  almost  exclusively  judged  by  their 
l)0unty  to  the  Church,  and  in  some  cases  this  is  the  sole  part 
of  their  policy  which  has  been  preserved.' 

There  were,  no  doubt,  a  few  redeeuung  jjoiuts  in  this  dark 
period.  The  Ii-ish  monks  are  said  to  have  been  honourably 
distinguished  for  their  reluctance  to  accept  the  lavish  dona- 
tions of  tlKiir  admirers,^  and  some  mLs.sionary  monasteries  of 
a  high  order  of  excellence  were  scattered  thiough  Eurojje 
A  few  legends,  too,  may  })C  cited  censuring  the  facility  with 
which  money  acquired  by  crime  was  accejited  as  an  atonement 
for  crime.'  But  these  cases  were  very  rare,  and  the  religious 
history  of  several  centuries  is  little  more  than  a  history  of 
the  rapacity  of  pi-iests  and  of  the  credulity  of  laymen.     In 


pf)wcr  of  ecrving  tlioso  who  [mid 
lilifDilly  for  liis  piitronugo.' — Mid- 
dle. Afjfs,  cli.  ix.  piirt  i.  I  do  not 
tliink  tliis  pfiHHM^ro  niakcH  Bufficient 
allowance  for  theunoonsi-ious  forin- 
ulioii  of  niiiny  siiiiiily  niytii-*,  hut 
no  inip.irtiiil  jxirson  ciiii  doiilit  ila 
8ul)Hliiuli;il  trnth. 

'  Sisniomli,  Hist,  dis  Frain'aU, 
tomo  ii.  pp.  f)l,  62-G3. 

■''  MUumiu'h  JJist.  of  Latiit  Chri.i- 
tianil)/,  vol.  ii.  p.  2o7. 

*  Ihu'iindiis,  a  French  liishop  of 
tliii  tliirtccntli  century,  ti'lJH  how, 
'  wiicii  a  certain  bishop  -was  consi^- 
craliiig  a  church  hudt  out  of  tlio 
fruitH  of  U8\iry  and  pillatro,  ho  saw 
hchind  tlic  allarthi'  devil  in  a  poii- 
tifi  id  vi'sttnent,  Ktiixlin^  at  tliu 
liishop'H  throiio,  who  Kaid  unto  tho 
laHhop,  "(V'ftso  from  coriHocrating 
tlie  church;    for  it    pt-rtainoth    to 


my  jurisdiction,  since  it  is  built 
from  tho  fruits  of  usuries  and  rob- 
beries." Then  tho  bishop  and  tho 
clorjjjy  having  flod  thence  in  fear, 
ininiodiately  tho  devil  destroyed 
th;it  ciiurch  witli  a  groat  noise.' — 
luitioiKi/c  Dii'iiiontiii,  i.  G  (trans- 
lated for  till'  Camden  Society). 

A  certain  St.  Launomar  is  said 
to  have  refused  a  gift  for  his  mo- 
nahlery  from  a  r.ipiicious  noble, 
llocau^o  ho  was  sure  it  was  (hi- 
rived  from  piUago.  (Montaleni- 
burt'H  Moines  W Occident,  tome  ii. 
pp.  aSO-Sril.)  When  pro.'titutes 
wore  converted  in  the  early  Church, 
it  Was  tho  rule  tliat  tho  money  of 
which  they  liad  bivomo  jxissessed 
should  never  bo  ii]iplied  to  ecclo- 
siastical  ])urpoKes,  iiut  should  b« 
distributed  among  tho  poor. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  219 

Kuglaud,  the  perpetual  demaiuls  of  the  Pojie  excited  a  fieive 
i-esentoicut ;  and  wo  may  traeo  with  remarkable  cleiwiiess, 
in  evory  page  of  jMatthew  I'aiis,  tlie  alienation  of  sympathy 
arising  from  this  c-auso,  whieh  ])rep!iivd  and  fon'shadowed 
tho  tinal  rupture  of  England  from  the  Ohureh.  Ireland,  on 
the  other  hand,  had  been  given  over  l»y  two  Poik^s  to  the 
En^lLsh  invader,  on  the  condition  of  tlie  payment  of  Petei-'s 
pence.  Tho  outrageous  and  notorious  immorality  of  the 
monasteries,  during  the  century  before  the  Reformation,  wtis 
chietly  duo  to  their  great  wealth  ;  aud  that  immorality,  as 
the  writings  of  Erasmus  and  Uhic  von  llutten  show,  gave  a 
powerful  impulse  to  the  new  movement,  while  the  abuses  of 
the  indulgences  were  tho  inuuediate  cause  of  the  revolt  of 
liuther.  But  these  things  arrived  only  after  many  centuricM 
of  suecossful  fniud.  The  religious  terrorism  that  was  unscru- 
])ulously  employed  had  done  its  work,  and  the  chief  riches  ot 
Uhristentlom  had  passed  into  tho  coflers  of  the  Church. 

It  is,  indeed,  probable  that  i-eligious  terrorism  played  a 
more  imiK)rtant  part  iu  tho  monastic  phase  of  Christianity 
tlian  it  lunl  done  even  in  the  groat  work  of  the  convei-sioii 
of  the  Pagans.  Although  two  or  three  amiable  theologians 
had  made  faint  aud  altogether  abortive  attempts  to  question 
the  ettfrnity  of  punishment ;  altho\igh  thei-e  had  been  some 
slight  diUeronce  of  opinion  concerning  the  futui'o  of  some 
Pagan  ])hilosopher3  who  had  lived  befoi-e  the  introduction  of 
Christianity,  and  also  ii]>on  the  question  whether  infants  who 
died  unliaptised  were  only  deprived  of  all  joy,  or  were  ac- 
tually subjected  to  never-ending  agony,  there  wjis  no  question 
as  to  tho  niiiin  features  of  the  Catholic  doctrine.  According 
to  the  patristic  theologians,  it  was  jmrt  of  tho  gosj)el  reve- 
lation that  tho  misery  and  suflering  the  human  race  en- 
dures upon  earth  is  but  a  fi-eblo  image  of  that  which  awaits 
it  in  the  future  world;  that  all  its  mombei-s  l)eyond  the 
Chiu-cli,  as  well  as  a  very  large  proportion  of  those  who  are 
within  its  j)ale,  are  doomed   to  an  eternity  of  agony  in  a 


220  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

literal  and  undying  fire.  The  monastic  legends  took  up  tiiis 
doctrine,  ■which  in  itself  is  sufficiently  revolting,  and  they 
developed  it  -with  an  appalling  vividness  and  minuteness. 
St.  Macarius,  it  is  said,  when  walking  one  day  through  tlie 
desert,  saw  a  skull  upon  the  ground.  He  struck  it  with  his 
staflF  and  it  began  to  speak.  It  told  him  that  it  was  the 
skull  of  a  Pagan  priest  who  had  lived  before  the  introduction 
of  Christianity  into  the  world,  and  who  had  accordingly  been 
doomed  to  hell.  As  high  as  the  heaven  is  above  the  eai'th, 
so  high  does  the  fire  of  hell  mount  in  waves  above  the  souls 
that  are  plunged  into  it.  The  damned  souls  were  pressed 
together  back  to  back,  and  the  lost  priest  made  it  his  single 
entreaty  to  the  saint  that  he  would  pray  that  they  might 
be  turned  face  to  face,  for  he  believed  that  the  sight  of  a 
brother's  face  might  afford  him  some  faint  consolation  in  the 
etei-nity  of  agony  that  was  before  him. '  The  story  is  well 
known  of  how  St.  Gregory,  seeing  on  a  bas-relief  a  represen- 
tation of  the  goodness  of  Trajan  to  a  poor  widow,  pitied  the 
Pagan  emperor,  whom  he  knew  to  be  in  hell,  and  prayed 
that  he  might  be  released.  He  was  told  that  his  prayer  was 
altogether  unprecedented ;  but  at  last,  on  his  promising  that 
he  would  never  offer  such  a  prayer  again,  it  was  partially 
granted.  Trajan  was  not  withdrawn  from  hell,  but  he  was 
freed  from  the  toi-ments  which  the  remainder  of  the  Pasran 
world  endured. 2 

An  entire  literature  of  visions  depicting  the  torments  of 


•  Verba  Seniornm,  Vto\.  ^  172.  great  virtues,  was   an  unbaptised 

*  This  vision  is  not  related  by  infidel.'  Tlie  whole  Kubjec-t  of  the 
St.  Gregory  himself,  and  some  vision  of  St.  (iregory  is  discussed 
(Catholics  are  perplexed  about  it,  on  by  Ciianipafiny,  Lcs  Antoniim,  tome 
account  of  the  vision  of  aiiotiier  i.  pp.  37'2-373.  This  devout  writer 
saint,  who  afterwards  asked  whether  says,  'Cetto  legende  fut  accepteo 
Trajan  was  saved,  and  received  par  tout  lo  moyen-Age,  inJulffcnt 
for  answer,  '  I  wish  men  to  rest  in  four  les  pa'iens  illuslrcs  et  tout  dis- 
iirnoranee  of  this  subject,  tliat  the  posd  i  les  supposor  Chretiens  el 
Catholics    may    become    stronger,  sauves.' 

For  this  eniperur,  though  he  had 


FROM    COXSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  221 

hell  was  soon  produced  by  the  industry  of  the  monks.  The 
apocryphal  Gospel  of  Nicodemus,  which  purported  to  describe 
the  descent  of  Christ  into  the  lower  world,  contributed  to 
foster  it ;  and  St.  Gregory  the  Great  has  related  many  visions 
in  a  more  famous  work,  which  professed  to  be  compiled  with 
Kcnipulous  veracity  from  the  most  authentic  sources,^  and  of 
which  it  may  be  confidently  averred  that  it  scarcely  contains 
a  single  page  which  is  not  tainted  with  grotesque  and  de- 
liberate falsehood.  Men,  it  was  said,  passed  into  a  trance  or 
temporary  death,  and  were  then  carried  for  a  time  to  hell. 
Among  others,  a  certain  man  named  Stephen,  from  whose 
lips  the  saint  declares  that  he  had  heard  the  tale,  had  died 
by  mistake.  When  his  soul  was  borne  to  the  gates  of  heH, 
the  Judge  declared  that  it  was  another  Stephen  who  was 
wanted ;  the  disembodied  spirit,  after  inspecting  hell,  was 
restored  to  its  former  body,  and  the  next  day  it  was  known 
that  another  Stephen  had  died.^  Volcanoes  wei-e  the  portals 
of  hell,  and  a  hermit  had  seen  the  soul  of  the  Arian  emperor 
Theodoric,  as  St.  Eucherius  afterwards  did  the  soul  of 
Charles  Martel,  carried  down  that  in  the  Island  of  Lipari.^ 
The  craters  in  Sicily,  it  was  remarked,  were  continually 
agitated,  and  continually  increasing,  and  this,  as  St.  Gz-egory 
observes,  was  probabl}--  due  to  the  impending  ruin  of  the 
world,  when  the  great  press  of  lost  souls  would  render  it 
necessary  to  enlarge  the  approaches  to  their  prisons.^ 

But  the  glimpses  of  hell  that  are  furnished  in  the  '  Dia- 
logues'  of  St.  Gregory  appear  meagre  and  unimaginative, 
compared  with  those  of  some  later  monks.  A  long  series 
of  monastic  visions,  of  which  that  of  St.  Fursey,  in  the 
seventh  century,  was  one  of  the  first,  and  wliich  followed 


'  See  the  solemn  asseveration  of  Eook  of  BwUxjurs. 

the  care  which  he  took   in  goingf  *  Dial.  iv.  36. 

only   to   the    most    credible    and  '  Ibid,  iv,  30. 

authorised  sources  for  his    mate-  *  Ibid.  iv.  86. 
rials,  in  the  Preface  to  the  First 


222  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

in  rapid  succession,  till  tliat  of  Tunclale,  in  the  twelfth 
century,  profiissed  to  describe  with  the  most  detailed  acciu-acy 
the  condition  of  the  lost.'  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  more 
ghastly,  grotesque,  and  material  conceptions  of  the  future 
world  than  they  evince,  or  more  hideous  calumnies  against 
that  Being  who  was  supposed  to  inflict  upon  His  creatures 
Buch  unspeakable  misery.  The  devil  was  represented  bound 
by  red-hot  chains,  on  a  burning  giidiion  in  the  centre  of 
hell.  The  screams  of  his  never-ending  agony  made  its  rafters 
bo  resound ;  but  his  hands  were  free,  and  witli  these  he 
seized  the  lost  souls,  cnished  them  like  gra])es  against  his 
teeth,  and  then  drew  them  by  his  breath  down  the  fiery 
cavern  of  his  throat.  Daemons  with  hooks  of  red-hot 
iron  plunged  souls  alternately  into  fire  and  ice.  Some  of 
the  lost  v/ere  hung  up  by  their  tongues,  others  were  sawn 
asunder,  others  gnawed  by  serpents,  others  beaten  together  on 
an  anvil  and  welded  into  a  single  mass,  others  boiled  and 
then  strained  through  a  cloth,  others  twined  in  the  embraces 
of  daemons  whose  limbs  were  of  flame.  The  fire  of  earth, 
it  was  said,  was  but  a  picture  of  that  of  hell.  The  latter  was 
so  immeasurably  more  intense  that  it  alone  could  be  called 
real.  Sulphur  was  mixed  with  it,  partly  to  increase  its 
heat,  and  partly,  too,  in  order  that  an  insufferable  stench 
might  be  added  to  the  misery  of  the  lost,  while,  unlike 
other  flames,  it  emitted,  according  to  some  visions,  no  light, 


'  The  fullest  collection  of  these  minent  in  producing  this  branch  of 

visions  with  which  I  am  acquainted  liteniturc.    St.  Fursey,  whose  vision 

is  that  made  for  the  Pliilobiblion  is  one  of  the  earliest,  and  Tondale, 

Sooifty  (vol.  ix.),  by  M.  Delepicrre,  or  Tundale,  whose  vision  is  one  of 

called  LE'ifcr  dicrit  par  cciix  rjiti  tlie  most  detailed,  were  both  Irish. 

ro/it  vu,  of  which  I  have  largely  The     Kngli.-h    historians    contain 

availed  myself.     See,  too,  Rusca /*«  several  of  these  visions.     Bede  re- 

InJ'cmo.  Wright's  Purgatory  of  St.  latts    two   or    three — William   o( 

Pa/ric/i.andaninteret-tingcoUectien  Alalmesbury  that  of  Charles    the 

of  visions  f;iven  by  Mr.  Luniifellow,  Tat;   Mattliew  Paris  three  visioni 

in histranslationof  Dante.  Thelrish  of  purgatory. 
Kiinta  were,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  pro- 


FROM    CONSTAXTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  223 

that  the  horror  of  darkness  might  he  added  to  the  horror  of 
pain.  A  narrow  bridge  spanned  the  abyss,  and  from  it  the 
souls  of  sinners  were  plunged  into  the  darkness  that  was 
l)elow.i 

Such  catalogues  of  horrors,  though  tliey  now  awake  in  an 
educated  man  a  sentiment  of  mingled  disgust,  weai-iness,  and 
contempt,  were  able  for  many  centuiies  to  create  a  degi-ee  of 
panic  and  of  misery  we  can  scarcely  realise.  With  the 
exception  of  the  heretic  Pelagius,  whose  noble  genius,  antici- 
pating the  discoveries  of  modern  science,  had  repudiated  the 
theological  notion  of  death  having  been  introduced  into  the 
world  on  account  of  the  act  of  Adam,  it  was  univ^ersally 
held  amonor  Christians  that  all  the  forms  of  suffering 
and  dissolution  that  are  manifested  on  earth  were  penal 
inflictions.  The  destruction  of  the  world  was  generally  be- 
lieved to  be  at  hand.  The  minds  of  men  were  filled  mth 
images  of  the  approaching  catastrophe,  and  innumerable 
legends  of  visible  daemons  were  industriously  cu-culated.  It 
was  the  custom  then,  as  it  is  the  custom  now,  for  Cathohc 
priests  to  stain  the  imaginations  of  young  children  by  ghastly 
pictures  of  future  misery,  to  imprint  upon  the  virgin  mind 
atrocious  images  which  they  hoped,  not  unreasonably,  might 
prove  indelible.^     In  hours  of  weakness  and  of  sickness  theii* 


'  Tlie  narrow  bridge  over  hell  Toung  persons,'  callcil  Th-i  Sicfht  nf 
(in  some  visions  covered  -with  .ffeZ^,  bytheEev.J.  Furniss.C.S.S.K., 
spikes),  which  is  a  conspicuous  published  '  permissu  suporiorum,' 
feature  in  the  Moliammedan  pic-  by  DuflTy  (Dublin  and  London), 
tures  of  the  future  world,  appears  It  is  a  detailed  description  of  the 
very  often  in  Catholic  visions.  See  dungeons  of  hell,  and  a  few  sen- 
Greg.  Tur.  iv.  33  ;  St.  Gr?g.  Dial,  tenecs may  serve  as asamplo.  'See! 
iv.  36  ;  and  the  vision  of  Tundale,  on  the  middle  of  that  red-hot  floor 
in  Delepierre.  stands  a  girl;  she  looks  a  boot  si  x- 

*  Few  Englishmen,  I  imagine,  teen  years  old.     Her  feet  are  bare, 

are  aware  of  the  infamous  publica-  Siie  has  neither  shoes  nor  stockings, 

tions  written  with  this  object,  that  .  .  .    Listen!    she   speaks.      She 

are    circulated    by    the     Catholic  says.  I  have  been  stamling  on  this 

priests  among  the  poor.      I   have  red-hot  floor  for  years.     Day  and 

before  me  a  tract '  for  children  and  night  my  only  standi ng-pla^e  has 


224 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


Dverwrouglit  fancv  seemed  to  see  hideous  beiniis  hoverinj* 
around,  and  hell  itself  yawning  to  receive  its  Victim.  St. 
Gregory  describes  how  a  monk,  who,  though  apparently  a 
man  of  exemplary  and  even  saintly  piety,  had  been  accus- 
tomed secretly  to  eat  meat,  saw  on  his  deathbed  a  feaiful 
dragon  twining  its  tail  I'ound  his  body,  and,  with  open  jaws, 
sucking  his  brea,th  ;  ^  and  how  a  little  boy  of  five  years  old, 
who  had  learnt  from  his  father  to  repeat  blasphemous  words, 
saw,  as  he  lay  dying,  exulting  daemons  who  were  waiting  to 
carry  him  to  hell.^  To  the  jaundiced  eye  of  the  theologian, 
all  nature  seemed  stricken  and  forlorn,  and  its  brightness  and 
beauty  suggested  no  ideas  but  those  of  deception  and  of  sin. 
The  redbreast,  according  to  one  popular  legend,  was  commis- 
sioned by  the  Deity  to  carry  a  drop  of  water  to  the  souls  of 
unbaptised  infants  in  hell,  and  its  breast  was  singed  in 
piercing  the  flames.^     In  the  calm,  still  hour  of  evening, 


been  this  red-hot  floor.  .  .  .  Look 
at  my  burnt  and  bleeding  foet.  Let 
me  go  off  this  burning  floor  for  one 
moment,  only  for  one  single  short 
moment.  .  .  .  The  fourth  dungpon 
is  the  boiling  kettle  ...  in  the 
middle  of  it  there  is  a  boy.  .  . 
His  eyes  are  burning  like  two  burn- 
ing coals.  Two  long  flames  come 
out  of  his  ears.  .  .  .  Sometimes 
ho  opens  his  moutli,  and  blazing 
fire  rolls  out.  But  listen  !  there  is 
a  sound  like  a  kottle  boiling.  .  .  . 
The  blood  is  boiling  in  the  scalded 
veins  of  that  boy.  The  brain  is 
boiling  and  bubbling  in  his  head. 
The  marrow  is  boiling  in  his  bones. 
.  .  .  The  filth  dungem  is  the  red- 
hot  oven.  .  .  .  Tiie  little  child  is 
in  this  red  hot  oven.  Hear  how 
it  screams  to  come  out.  See  how 
it  turns  and  twists  itself  aboat  in 
the  fire.  It  beats  its  hcid  against 
the  roof  of  the  oven.  1 1  rtamps  its 
little  feet  on  the  floor.   .  .  .  GoJ 


was  very  good  to  this  child.  Very 
likely  God  saw  it  would  get  worse 
and  worse,  and  would  never  repent, 
and  so  it  would  liaveto  be  punished 
much  more  in  hell.  So  God  in  His 
mercy  called  it  out  of  the  world  in 
its  early  childhood.'  If  the  reader 
desires  to  follow  this  subject  fur- 
ther, he  may  glance  over  a  com- 
panion tract  by  the  same  reverend 
gentleman,  called  A  Terrible  Judg- 
ment on  a  Little  Child;  and  also  a 
book  on  Ildl,  translated  from  the 
Italian  of  Pinamonti,  and  with 
illustrations  depicting  the  various 
tortures. 

'  St.  Greg.  Dial.  iv.  38. 

Mbid.  iv.  18. 

'  Alger's  l.iiitory  of  the  Doc- 
trine of  a  Future  Life  (New  York, 
1866),  p.  414.  The  ignis  fatuus  wa« 
sometimes  supposed  to  betliosoul 
of  an  imbaptisedchiM.  There  is,  I 
believe,  another  Catholic  legend 
about    the    rodbre-ist,    of  a  very 


IKOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHAKLEIIAGNE.  225 

wlien  the  peasant  boy  asked  why  the  sinking  sun,  as  it  dipped 
beneath  the  horizon,  flushed  with  such  a  glorious  red,  he  wag 
answered,  La  the  words  of  an  okl  Saxon  catechism,  because  it 
is  then  looldng  into  hell.' 

It  is  related  in  the  vision  of  Tundale,  that  as  he  gazed 
rpon  the  burning  plains  of  hell,  and  listened  to  the  screams 
of  ceaseless  and  hopeless  agony  that  were  wrung  from  the 
Kufferers,  the  cry  broke  from  his  lips,  '  Alas,  Lord  !  what 
truth  is  there  in  what  I  have  so  often  heard — the  earth  is 
filled  with  the  mercy  of  GodT  ^  It  is,  indeed,  one  of  the 
most  curious  things  in  moral  history,  to  observe  how  men 
who  were  sincerely  indignant  with  Pagan  writers  for  attri- 
butiao-  to  their  divinities  the  frailties  of  an  occasional  jealousy 
or  an  occasional  sensuality — for  representing  them,  in  a  word, 
like  men  of  mingled  characters  and  passions — have  neverthe 
less  unscrupulously  attributed  to  their  own  Divinity  a  degree 
of  cruelty  which  may  be  confidently  said  to  transcend  the 
utmost  barbarity  of  which  human  nature  is  capable.  Neither 
Nero  nor  Phalaris  could  have  looked  complacently  for  ever  on 
millions  enduring  the  torture  of  fire — most  of  them  because 
of  a  crime  which  was  committed,  not  by  themselves,  but  by 
their  ancestors,  or  because  they  had  adopted  some  mistaken 
conclusion  on  intricate  questions  of  history  or  metaphysics.^ 


different  kind— that  its  breast  ivas  crust  of  the   earth,   which   is  the 

8t;iiiicd  witli    blood  when    it   was  wall  of  hell,  and  thus  making  the 

trying  to  pull  out  the  thorns  from  wliole  revolve,  as  the  squirrel  by 

the  crown  of  Christ.  climbing  turns  its  cage !    {L Enfer 

•Wright's    Purgatory    of     St.  decrit  par  cciix  qui  I'ont  vu,\).  lol.) 

Patrick,    p.    26.       M.    Dclepierre  -  Delepierre,  p.  70. 

quotes  a  curious  theory  of  father  *  Thus,   in  a  book  which  wiis 

Hardouin   (who    is  chiefly   known  attributed  (it  is  said  crroneously)to 

for  his  suggestion  that  the  classics  Jeremy  Taylor,  we  find  two  singu- 

were  composed    by  the  mediaeval  larly    unrhetorical     nnd    unimpjis- 

monks)   that   the  rotation  of   the  sioned  chapters,  deliberately  enu- 

enrlh  is  caused  by  the  lost  souls  merating  the  most   atrocious  acts 

tiying  to  escape  from  the  fire  that  of   cruelty  in  human  history,  and 

is  at  the  centre  of  the  globe,  climb-  miiintaining  that  ihcy  are  surpassed 

ing,  in   consequence,  on  ths  inner  by   the    tortures    inflicted    by   tha 


22fi 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


To  those  who  do  not  resrard  such  teachinor  as  true,  it  must 
app<!ar  without  exception  the  most  odious  in  the  religious 
liislory  of  the  woild,  subversive  of  the  very  foundations  of 
morals,  and  well  fitted  ro  transform  the  man  who  at  once 
realLsed  it,  and  accepted  it  with  pleasure,  into  a  monster  of 
barbarity.  Of  the  writers  of  the  mediaeval  period,  certainly 
one  of  the  two  or  three  most  eminent  was  Peter  Lombard, 
whose  '  Sentences,'  though  now,  I  believe,  but  little  read, 
were  for  a  long  time  the  basis  of  all  theological  literature  in 
Eui'ojie.  More  than  four  thousand  theologians  are  said  to 
have  written  commentaries  upon  them  '  —  among  others, 
Albert  the  Great,  St.  Bonaventura,  and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas. 
Nor  is  the  work  unworthy  of  its  former  reputation.  Calm, 
clear,  logical,  subtle,  and  concise,  the  author  professes  to  ex- 


Deity.  A  few  instances  will  suffice. 
Certain  persons  '  put  rings  of  iron, 
stuck  full  of  sharp  points  of  needlf-s, 
about  their  arms  and  feet,  in  such 
a  manner  as  the  prisoners  could 
not  move  without  wounding  tliem- 
selves;  then-  they  compassed  them 
al)OUt  with  fire,  to  the  end  tlia*", 
standing  still,  they  might  be  bui'nt 
alive,  iind  if  they  stirred  the  sharp 
points  pierced  their  flesh.  .  .  . 
What,  then,  shall  be  the  torment 
of  tlio  damned  where  they  shall 
burn  eternally  -without  dying,  and 
williout  possibility  of  removing? 
.  .  .  Alexamlcr,  the  son  of  H}t- 
canus,  caused  eight  hundred  to  be 
crucified,  and  whilst  they  were  yet 
alive  caused  th<>iv  wives  and  ciiil- 
dren  to  be  murdered  before  thfir 
eyes,  that  so  they  migiit  not  die 
once,  but  many  deaths.  This  rigour 
shall  not  be  wanting  in  hell.  .  .  . 
Mi'zontius  tied  a  living  body  to  a 
daad  until  tlie  putrefied  exhalations 
of  the  dead  liad  killed  the  living. 
.  .  .  What  is  this  in  respect  of 
hell,  when  ca/'.h  l«ody  of  the  damned 


is  more  loatlisomc  and  uuFaroury 
than  a  million  of  dead  dogs?  .  .  . 
Bonaventm-e  says,  if  one  of  the 
damned  were  bmught  into  this 
world  it  were  sufficient  to  infect 
the  wliole  earth.  .  .  .  We  are 
amazed  to  tliink  of  the  inliumaiiity 
of  Phalaris,  who  roasted  men  alive 
in  his  br.izen  bull.  That  was  a 
joy  in  respect  of  that  fire  of  hell. 
.  .  .  This  torment  .  .  .  comprises 
as  man}'  torments  as  the  body  of 
man  has  joints,  sinews,  arteries, 
&c.,  being  caused  by  that  penetra 
ting  and  real  fire,  of  which  this 
temporal  fire  is  but  a  painted  fire. 
.  .  .  What  comparison  will  thf.re 
be  between  burning  for  a  hundred 
years'  spnce,  and  to  be  burning 
without  interruption  as  long  as  Go<? 
is  God?' — Contcmplaliona  on  tht 
State  of  Man,  book  ii.  ch.  6-7,  in 
Ilelier's  Edition  of  the  works  ot 
Taylor. 

'  Perrone.  Historiee  Thfologia 
cum  Philosophia  comparata  Synop- 
sis, p  29.  Peter  Lombard's  work 
was  published  in  a.d.  1160. 


FROM    CONSTANTIXE    TO    CIIARLEIIAGNE.  227 

pound  tlie  whole  system  of  Catholic  theology  and  ethics, 
and  to  reveal  the  interdependence  of  their  various  parts. 
Having  explained  the  position  and  the  duties,  he  proceeds  to 
examine  the  prospects,  of  man.  He  maintains  that  until  the 
day  of  judgment  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  and  hell  will 
continually  see  one  another;  but  that,  in  the  succeeding 
eternity,  the  inhabitants  of  heaven  alone  will  see  those  of  the 
opposite  world ;  and  he  concludes  his  great  work  by  this 
most  impressive  passage  :  '  In  the  last  place,  we  must  enqiiire 
whether  the  sight  of  the  jjunishment  of  the  condemned  will 
imjjair  the  glory  of  the  blest,  or  whether  it  will  augment 
tlieir  beatitude.  Concerning  this,  Gregory  says  the  sight  of 
the  punishment  of  the  lost  will  not  obscure  the  beatitude  of 
the  just;  for  when  it  is  accompanied  by  no  compassion  it  can 
l)e  no  diminution  of  happiness.  And  although  their  own 
joys  might  suffice  to  the  just,  yet  to  their  greater  glory  they 
will  see   the   pains  of  the  evil,  which   by  grace  they   have 

escaped The  elect  will  go  forth,  not  indeed  locally, 

bub  by  intelligence,  and  by  a  clear  vision,  to  behold  the 
torture  of  the  impious,  and  as  they  see  them  they  will  not 
giieve.  Their  minds  will  be  sated  with  joy  as  they  gaze  on 
the  unspeakable  angiiish  of  the  impious,  returning  thanks 
for  their  own  freedom.  Thus  Esaias,  describing  the  torments 
of  the  unpious,  and  the  joy  of  the  righteous  in  witnessing  it, 
says  :  "  The  elect  in  truth  will  go  out  and  will  see  the  coi"pses 
of  men  who  have  prevaricated  against  Him  ;  their  worm 
will  not  die,  and  they  will  be  to  the  satiety  of  vision  to  all 
flesh,  that  is  to  the  elect.  The  just  man  will  rejoice  when 
lie  shall  see  the  vengeance."  ' ' 


'  '  Postrcmo  qua3ritur,  Anpcpna  passio  niisorise    non  crit,  miimere 

rcproboruni  visa  decoloret  gloriam  laatoruiii  la>tuiam  non  valebit.    Et 

beaturum?    an   eorum  beatitudini  lic-et  justis  sua   gaudia  sufficiant, 

froliciat?     De  hoc   ita  Gregorius  ad  maiorem  gloriam  vident  poenaa 

Bii,  Apudanimum  justorum  non  ob-  malorum  qnas  per  gratium  evase- 

fuscat  beatitudinem  aspecta  pcena  runt.  .  .  .  Egredientur  ergo  electi, 

ri^ppoborum  ;    quia    ul>i   jam   com-  non  loco,  sed  intelligentiavelvisiono 


228  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

This  passion  for  visions  of  heaven  and  hell  was,  in  fact, 
a  natural  continuation  of  the  passion  for  dogmatic  definition, 
vv'hich  bad  raged  during  the  fifth  centuiy.  It  "was  natural 
hat  men,  whose  curiosity  had  left  no  conceivable  question  of 
theology  undefined,  should  have  endeavoured  to  describe 
with  corresponding  precision  the  condition  of  the  dead. 
Much,  however,  was  due  to  the  hallucinations  of  solitary 
and  ascetic  life,  and  much  more  to  deliberate  imposture. 
It  is  impossible  for  men  to  continue  long  in  a  condition  of 
extreme  panic,  and  superstition  speedily  discovered  remedie.s 
to  allay  the  fears  it  had  created.  If  a  malicious  da?mon  was 
hovering  around  the  believer,  and  if  the  jaws  of  hell  were 
opening  to  receive  him,  he  was  defended,  on  the  other  hand 
by  countless  angels ;  a  lavish  gift  to  a  church  or  monastery 
could  always  enlist  a  saint  in  his  behalf,  and  priestly  power 
could  protect  him  against  the  dangers  which  priestly  sagacity 
had  revealed.  When  the  angels  were  weighing  the  good  and 
evil  deeds  of  a  dead  man,  the  latter  were  found  by  far  to 
preponderate;  but  a  priest  of  St.  Lawrence  came  in,  and 
turned  the  scale  by  throwing  down  among  the  former  a 
heavy  gold  chalice,  which  the  deceased  had  given  to  the 
altar.'  Dagobert  was  snatched  from  the  very  arms  of  da;mon.s 
by  St.  Denis,  St.  Maurice,  and  St.  Martin.*  Charlemagne 
was  saved,  because  the  monasteries  he  had  built  outweighed 


manifesta  ad  videndum  inipionim  I«ptabitur  Justus  cum  viderit  vin- 

cruciatus;  quos  videntes  non  dolore  diotam.' — Peter  Lombard,  Scnten. 

aflScientur  sed  laetitia  salialmntur,  lib.  iv.  finis.    These  amiable  views 

ae;entes  gratias  de  sua  lit)erationo  have  often  been  expressed  both  by 

visa  impiorum  ineffabili  calamitate.  Catholicand  by  Puritan  divines.  See 

Ilnde  Esaias   impiorum   tormenta  A^gera  Doctrine  of  a  Future  Life, 

i?escribcns  efc  ex  oonim  visi(jno  Ire-  p.  541. 

titiam    bonorum    exprimfn«,    ait,  '  Legenda  Aurea.     There   is    a 

E^'re  lientur  electi  scilicet  et  vide-  cui-ious    fresco    represent iufij    this 

bunt  Civdavera  virorum  qui  praeva-  transaciion,  on  the  portal  of  the 

ricati  sunt  in  me.     Vermis  eorum  church  of  St.  Lorenzo,  near  Rome, 

non  morietur  et  ignis  non  extin-  *  Aimoni,  De  Gestis  Frnncorum 

guotur.etenint  usque  ad  siitietatom  Hist.  \v.  34. 
visionis  omni  cami,  id  est  electis. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  229 

(lis  evil  deeds.'  Others,  who  died  in  mortal  sin,  were  raised 
from  the  dead  at  the  desii-e.of  their  pati'on  saint,  to  expiato 
their  guilt.  To  amass  relics,  to  acquire  the  patronage  of 
saints,  to  endow  monasteries,  to  build  churches,  became  the 
chief  part  of  religion,  and  the  more  the  terrors  of  the  unseen 
world  were  unfolded,  the  more  men  sought  tranquillity  by 
the  consolations  of  superstition.^ 

The  extent  to  which  the  custom  of  materialising  religion 
was  carried,  can  only  be  adequately  realised  by  those  who 
have  examined  the  mediaeval  literature  itself.  That  which 
strikes  a  student  in  perusing  this  literature,  is  not  so  much 
the  existence  of  these  superstitions,  as  their  extraordinary 
multiplication,  the  many  thousands  of  grotesque  mii-acles 
wrought  by  saints,  monasteries,  or  relics,  that  were  delibe- 
rately asserted  and  univei-sally  believed.  Christianity  had 
assumed  a  form  that  was  quite  as  polytheistic  and  quite  as 
idolatrous  as  the  ancient  Paganism.  The  low  level  of  intel- 
lectual cultivation,  the  religious  feelings  of  half-converted 
barbarians,  the  interests  of  the  clergy,  the  great  social  im- 
portance of  the  monasteries,  and  perhaps  also  the  custom  of 
compounding  for  nearly  all  crimes  by  pecuniary  fines,  which 
was  so  general  in  the  penal  system  of  the  barbarian  tribes, 
combined  in  theii-  difierent  ways,  with  the  panic  created  by 
the  fear  of  hell,  in  driving  men  in  the  same  dii-ection,  and 
the  wealth  and  power  of  the  clergy  rose  to  a  point  that 
enabled  them  to  overshadow  all  other  classes.  They  had 
found,  as  has  been  well  said,  in  another  world,  the  standiuf^- 


'  Turpin's  C//wHicfc,  ch.  32.   In  ces  siecles  grossiers  que  I'avi.rico 

the  vision  ofWatlin,  however  (a.d.  6toit  le  premier  uttribut  cle  Dieii, 

824),  Chiirlemngiie  was   seen  tor-  et  quo  los  saints  faisoient  un  coin- 

turcd  in  purgatcrj  en  account  of  nierce  do  lour  credit  et  de  leurpro- 

his  excessive  love  of  women.    (De-  tectiou.      De-hi   las  richesses  im- 

lopierre,   L'Evfcr  decrit   par  cciuv  mouses  donneos  aux  egli.sos  pur  des 

qui  I'ont  vu,  pp.  27-28.)  honimes  dont  les  niceurs  deshono- 

-  As  the  Abb(5  Mabh  observes  :  roient  la  religion.'  —  Observation* 

'On  croyoit  en  quelque  .sorte  dans  siir  I'Hi.-t.  df  Fnincc.  \.  \ 

47 


230  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

point  of  Archimedes  from  which  they  could  move  this.  Iso 
other  system  had  ever  appeared  so  admii-ably  fitted  to  endure 
for  ever.  The  Church  had  crushed  or  silenced  every  ojipo- 
nent  in  Christendom.  It  had  an  absolute  control  over 
education  in  all  its  branches  and  in  all  its  stages.  It  liad 
absorbed  all  the  speculative  knowledge  and  art  of  Europa 
It  possessed  or  commanded  wealth,  rank,  and  military  power. 
It  had  so  dii-ected  its  teaching,  that  everything  which  terri- 
fied or  distressed  mankind  drove  men  sj)eedily  ii;ito  its  arms, 
and  it  had  covered  Europe  with  a  A'ast  network  of  insti- 
tutions, admiitibly  adapted  to  extend  and  perpetuate  its 
power.  In  addition  to  all  this,  it  had  guarded  with  con- 
summate skill  all  the  approaches  to  its  citadel.  Every 
doubt  was  branded  as  a  sin,  and  a  long  course  of  doubt 
must  necessarily  have  preceded  the  rejection  of  its  tenets. 
All  the  avenues  of  enquiry  were  painted  with  images  ol 
appalling  suffering,  and  of  malicious  daemons.  Ko  sooner 
did  the  worshipper  begin  to  question  any  article  of  faith,  or 
to  lose  his  confidence  in  the  virtue  of  the  ceremonies  of  his 
Church,  than  he  was  threatened  with  a  doom  that  no  human 
heroism  could  brave,  tliat  no  imagination  could  contemplate 
undismayed. 

Of  all  the  suffering  that  was  undergone  by  those  brave 
men  who  iu  ages  of  ignorance  and  superstition  dared  to 
break  loose  from  the  trammels  of  their  Chui-ch,  and  who  laid 
the  foundation  of  the  liberty  we  now  enjoy,  it  is  this  wliich 
was  probably  the  most  poignant,  and  which  is  the  least 
realised.  Our  imaginations  can  reproduce  with  much  vivid- 
ness gigantic  massacres  like  those  of  the  All)igenses  or  of 
St.  Bartholomew.  We  can  conceive,  too,  the  tortures  of  the 
rack  and  of  the  boots,  the  dungeon,  the  scaffold,  and  the  slow 
Lre.  We  can  estimate,  though  less  perfectly,  the  anguish 
wh'ch  the  bold  enquirer  must  have  undergone  from  the 
deseition  of  those  he  mo.st  dearly  loved,  from  the  hatred  of 
UMtnkind,  from  the  malignant  cabimnics  that  were  heaped 


FROM    COXSTANTINE   TO    CHAELEMAG^^E.  231 

upon  Lis  name.     But  in  the  cliamber  of  his  own  soul,  in  the 
nours  of  his  solitaiy  meditation,  he  must  have  found  elements 
of  a  suifering  that  was  still  more  acute.     Taught  from  his 
earliest  childhood  to  regard  the  abandonment  of  his  here- 
ditary opinions  as  the  most  deadly  of  crimes,  and  to  ascribe 
it  to  the  instigation  of  deceiving  daemons,  pei-suaded  that 
if  he  died  in  a  condition  of  doubt  he  must  pass  into  a  state 
of  everlasting  torture,  his  imagination  satui-ated  with  images 
of  the  most  hideous  and  appalling  anguish,  he  found  himself 
alone  in  the  world,  struggling  vdth  his  difficulties  and  his 
doubts.     There  existed  no  rival  sect  in  which  he  could  take 
refuge,  and  where,  in  the  professed  agi-eement  of  many  minds, 
he  could  forget  the  anathemas  of  the  Church.      Physical 
science,  that  has  disproved  the  theological  theories  which 
attribute  death  to  human  sin,  and  suffering  to  Divine  ven- 
geance, and  all  natural  phenomena  to  isolated  acts  of  Divine 
intervention — historical   criticism,    which   has   dispelled   so 
many  imposing  fabrics  of  belief,  traced  so  many  elaborate 
superstitions  to  the  normal  action  of  the  undisciplined  imagi- 
nation, and  explained  and  defined  the  successive  phases  of 
religious  progress,  were  both  unknown.     Every  comet  that 
blazed  in  the  sky,  every  pestilence  that  swept  over  the  land, 
appeared  a  confirmation  of  the  dark  threats  of  the  theologian. 
A  spirit  of  blind  and  abject  credulity,  inculcated  as  the  first 
of  duties,  and  exhibited  on  all  subjects  and  in  all  foi-ms, 
pervaded  the  atmosphere  he  breathed.     Who  can  estimate 
aright  the  obstacles  against  which  a  sincere  enquirer  in  such 
an  age  must  have  struggled  ?     Who  can  conceive  the  secret 
anguish  he  must  have  endured  in  the  long  months  or  years 
during   which   rival   arguments   gained   an   alternate   sway 
over  his  judgment,  while  all  doubt  was  still   regarded  as 
damnable?     And  oven  when  his  mind  was  con-vinced,  liis 
imaEjuiation  would  still  often  revert  to  his  old  belief.     Our 
thoughts  in  after  years  flow  spontaneously,  and  even  uncon- 
sciously, in  the  channels  that  are  formed   in  youth.      Ill 


232  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

moments  when  the  controlling  judgment  has  relaxed  ita 
grasp,  old  intellectual  habits  reussume  their  sway,  and 
images  painted  on  the  imagination  will  live,  when  the  intel- 
lectual propositions  on  which  they  rested  have  been  wholly 
abandoned.  In  hours  of  weakness,  of  sickness,  and  of  drow- 
siness, in  the  feverish  and  anxious  moments  that  are  known 
to  all,  when  the  mind  floats  passively  upon  the  stream,  tho 
phantoms  wliich  reason  had  exorcised  must  have  often  re- 
appeared, and  the  bitterness  of  an  ancient  tyranny  must  have 
entered  into  his  soul. 

It  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  many  services  that  were 
rendered  to  mankind  by  the  Troubadours,  that  they  east 
such  a  flood  of  ridicule  upon  the  Adsions  of  hell,  by  which 
tho  monks  had  been  accustomed  to  terrify  mankind,  that 
they  completely  discredited  and  almost  suppressed  them.' 
Whether,  however,  the  Catholic  mind,  if  unassisted  by  the 
literature  of  Paganism  and  by  the  independent  thinkers  who 
grew  up  under  the  shelter  of  Mohammedanism,  could  have 
ever  unwound  the  chains  that  had  bound  it,  may  well  1)6 
questioned.  The  gi-owth  of  towns,  which  multipUed  secular 
interests  and  feelings,  the  revival  of  learning,  the  depression 
of  the  ecclesiastical  classes  that  followed  the  cnisades,  and,  at 
last,  the  dislocation  of  Christendom  by  the  Reformation, 
gradually  impaired  the  ecclesiastical  doctrine,  which  ceased 
to  be  realised  before  it  ceased  to  be  believed.  There  was, 
however,  another  doctrine  which  exercL'^ed  a  still  greater 
influence  in  augmenting  the  riches  of  the  clergy,  and  iu 
making  donations  to  the  Chin-ch  the  chief  part  of  religion. 
I  allude,  of  course,  to  the  doctrine  of  purgatory. 

A  distinguished  modern  apologist  for  the  middle  ages 
has  made  this  doctrine  the  oliject  of  his  special  and  very 
charactei-istic  eulogy,  because,  as  he  says,   by  providing  a 


'  Many  curious  examples  of  the  are  given  by  Delepierre,  p.  144. — ■ 
way  in  which  the  'Irouladours  bur-  Wright's  Purgatory  of  St.  Patrick, 
lesqued  the  monkish  visions  of  hell     47-62. 


FROM    CONSTAKTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  233 

fiiulo  puuisliment  graduated  to  every  variety  of  giiilt,  and 
adapted  for  those  who,  without  being  sufficiently  virtuous 
to  pass  at  once  into  heaven,  did  not  appear  sufficiently 
vicious  to  pass  into  hell,  it  formed  an  indispensable  cor- 
rective to  the  exti-eme  teiTorism  of  the  doctrine  of  eternal 
punLshment. '  This  is  one  of  those  theories  which,  though 
exceedingly  popular  with  a  class  of  writers  who  are  not  without 
influence  in  our  day,  must  appear,  I  think,  almost  grotei=que 
to  those  who  have  examined  the  actual  operation  of  the 
doctrine  dm^ing  the  middle  ages.  According  to  the  practical 
teaching  of  the  Church,  the  expiatory  powers  at  the  disposal 
of  its  clergy  were  so  great,  that  those  who  died  believing  its 
doctrines,  and  fortified  in  their  last  hours  by  its  rites,  had  no 
cause  whatever  to  dread  the  terrors  of  hell.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  who  died  external  to  the  Church  had  no  prospect 
of  entering  into  purgatory.  This  latter  was  designed  alto- 
gether for  true  believers ;  it  was  chiefly  pi-eached  at  a  time 
(V'hen  no  one  was  in  the  least  dispo.«;ed  to  question  the  powers 
of  the  Church  to  absolve  any  crime,  however  heinous,  or  to 
free  the  worst  men  from  hell,  and  it  was  assuredly  never 
regarded  in  the  light  of  a  consolation.  Indeed,  the  popular 
pictures  of  purgatory  were  so  terrific  tliat  it  may  be  doubted 
whether  the  imagination  could  ever  fully  realise,  though  the 
I'eason  could  easily  recognise,  the  difference  between  this  state 
and  that  of  the  lost.  The  fire  of  purgatory,  according  to  the 
most  eminent  theologians,  was  like  the  fii'e  of  hell — a  literal 
fire,  prolonged,  it  was  sometimes  said,  for  ages.  The  de- 
clamations of  the  pulpit  described  the  sufferings  of  the  saved 
souls  in  purgatoiy  as  incalculably  greater  than  any  that  wero 
endiued  by  the  most  wretched  mortals  upon  earth. ^  The  rude 


•   Conite   Philosophie    'positive,  joics  si  on  les  compare  a  uno  se- 

tome  V.  p.  269.  condo   des    peines   dii    purfTiitoire. 

■■^    'Saint-Bernard,  dans  son  ser-  "  Imaginez-vous    done,    d^lientes 

mon  Be  obitu  Humberii,  affirme  que  dames,"  dit  le  p^re  Valladier  (1613) 

lous  les  tourments  de  cette  vie  sont  dans   son  ser.non  du  .3""' diiuauelia 


234 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


artists  of  medipevalism  exhausted  their  efforts  in  depictipg 
the  writhings  of  the  dead  in  the  flames  that  encircled  them. 
Innumerable  visions  detailed  with  a  ghastly  miauteness  the 
various  kinds  of  torture  they  underwent,'  and  the  monk, 
who  described  what  he  professed  to  have  seen,  usually  ended 
by  the  characteristic  moral,  that  could  men  only  realise  those 
sufferings,  they  would  shrink  from  no  sacrifice  to  rescue  their 
friends  from  such  a  state.  A  special  place,  it  was  said,  was 
reserved  in  purgatory  for  those  who  had  been  slow  in  paying 
theii*  tithes.^  St.  Gregory  tells  a  curious  story  of  a  man 
who  was,  in  other  respects,  of  admirable  virtue;    but  who, 


de  r  A  vent,  "  d'estre  au  t  ravers  de 
vos  chenets,  sur  vostre  petit  feu 
pour  uno  centaine  d'ans :  ce  n'est 
rienau  respect  d'un  moment  de  pur- 
gatuire.  Mais  si  vous  vistes  jamais 
tirer  quelqu'un  a  quatre  chevaux, 
quelqu'un  brusler  a  petit  feu,  en- 
ragerdefaim  ou  desoif,  une  heurode 
purffatoiro  est  pire  quo  tout  eela."  ') 
—  Meray,  Les  Lihres  Prccheurs 
(Paris,  18G0),  pp.  13(1-131  (an  ex- 
tremely curious  and  suggestive 
book).  I  now  take  up  tlie  first 
contemporary  book  of  popular  Ca- 
tiioiic  devotion  on  this  subject  ■which 
is  at  hand,  and  read  :  '  Compared 
with  the  pains  of  purgatory,  then, 
all  those  wounds  and  dark  prisons, 
all  those  wild  beasts,  liooks  of  iron, 
red-hot  plates,  &c.,  wliicli  tlie  holy 
martyrs  suffered,  are  nolliing.' 
'  They  (souls  in  purgatory)  are  in 
a  real,  though  miraculous  manner, 
tortured  by  fire,  which  is  of  the 
same  kirul  (says  Bollarminp)  as  our 
eb'rnent  fire.'  '  The  Angelic  Doctor 
alfirwi.s '■  liiat  the  fire  which  tor- 
ments the  damned  is  like  tlio  firo 
which  purges  the  elect.'"  'What 
agony  will  not  those  holy  souls 
BufftT  when  tied  and  bound  with 
the  most  tormenting  chains  of  a 


living  fire  like  to  that  of  hell .'  and 
we,  wliile  able  to  make  them  free 
and  happy,  shall  we  stand  like  un- 
interested spectators  ? '  'St.  Austin 
is  of  opinion  that  the  pains  of  a 
soul  in  purgatory  during  the  time 
required  to  open  and  shut  one's 
eye  is  more  severe  than  what  St. 
Lawrence  suffered  on  the  gridiron ;' 
and  much  mort-  to  the  same  effect. 
(Purga'o^y  opened  to  the  Piety  of 
the  Faithful.  Richardson,  London  ) 

'  iSee  Delepicrre,  "Wright,  and 
Alger. 

*  This  appears  fr.)m  the  vi.sion 
of  Thurcill.  (Wr'giit's  I'nnjatory 
of  at.  Patrick,  p.  42.)  Bromptoa 
(C//ro»/co«)tellsof  an  English  land- 
lord who  had  refused  to  pay  tithes. 
St.  Augustinf,  having  vainly  rea- 
soned willi  liim,  at  bist  convinced 
him  by  a  miracle.  Befijre  celebrat- 
ing mass  he  ordered  all  excommuni- 
cated persons  to  leave  the  church, 
whereupon  a  corjise  got  out  of  a 
pr.ive  and  walked  aw.ay.  Thecorpse, 
on  being  questioned,  said  it  was  the 
body  of  an  ancient  Uriton  who  re- 
fused to  pay  tithes,  anil  had  in  con- 
sequence been  exeommuniciitednml 
damned. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHAELEMAGNE.  235 

ill  a  contested  election  for  the  popedom,  supported  the  wi'ong 
candidate,  and  without,  as  it  would  appear,  in  any  degree 
refusing  to  obey  the  successful  candidate  when  elected,  con- 
tinued secretly  of  opinion  that  the  choice  was  an  unwise  one. 
lie  was  accordingly  placed  for  some  time  after  death  in 
boilino;  water.'  Whatever  may  be  thousrht  of  its  other 
aspects,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  recognising  in  this  teaching  a 
masterly  skill  in  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends,  which 
almost  rises  to  artistic  beauty.  A  system  which  deputed  its 
minister  to  go  to  the  unhappy  widow  in  the  first  dark  hour 
of  her  anguish  and  her  desolation,  to  tell  her  that  he  who 
was  dearer  to  her  than  all  the  world  besides  was  now  burning 
in  a  fii-e,  and  that  he  could  only  be  relieved  by  a  gift  of 
money  to  the  piiests,  was  assuredly  of  its  own  kind  not 
\\-ithout  an  extraordinaiy  niei-it. 

If  we  attempt  to  realise  the  moral  condition  of  the  society 
of  Western  Europe  in  the  period  that  elapsed  between  the  down- 
fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  Charlemagne,  during  which  the 
religious  transformations  I  have  noticed  chiefly  arose,  we  shall 
be  met  V)y  some  formidable  difiiculties.  In  the  first  place,  our 
materials  are  very  scanty.  From  the  year  a.d.  642,  when  the 
meagre  chronicle  of  Fredigarius  closes,  to  the  biography  of 
Charlemagne  by  Eginhard,  a  century  later,  there  is  an  almost 
complete  blank  in  trustworthy  histoiy,  and  we  are  reduced 
to  a  few  scanty  and  very  doubtful  notices  in  the  chronicles  of 
monasteries,  the  lives  of  saints,  and  the  decrees  of  Councils. 
All  secular  literature  had  almost  disappeared,  and  the  thought 
of  posterity  seems  to  have  vanished  from  the  world. ^  Of  the 
first  half  of  the  seventh  century,  however,  and  of  the  two 
centuries  that  preceded  it,  we  have  much  infoi-mation  from 


'  Grep.  Dial.  iv.  40.  rains,  et  pendant  le  meme  espace 

*  As  Sismondi  says:  'Pendant  de  temps  il  n'y  cut  pas  un  person- 

qiatre-viniits  ans,  tout  au  nioins,  nage    puissant  qui    ne   batit   dea 

il  n'y  eut  pas  un  Franc  qui  songeAt  temples  pour  la  post^riti  la  plus 

k  transmettre  a  la  post^rit6  la  m^-  recul6e.'- — Hht.  des  Fravcais,  tome 

moire  des   ^v^nements  ccntempo-  ii.  p.  46. 


236  HISTORY    OF    ECROrEAN    MORALS. 

Gregory  of  Tours,  and  Fredigarius,  whose  tedious  and  repul- 
sive pages  illustrate  with  considei-able  clearness  the  conflict  of 
luces  and  the  dislocation  of  governments  that  for  centuries 
existed.  In  Italy,  the  traditions  and  habits  of  the  old  Empire 
had  in  some  degree  reasserted  their  sway ;  but  in  Gaul  the 
Church  subsisted  in  the  midst  of  barbarians,  whose  native 
vigour  had  never  been  emasculated  by  civilisation  and  refined 
by  knowledge.  The  picture  which  Gregory  of  Tours  gives  us 
is  that  of  a  society  which  was  almost  absolutely  anarchical. 
The  mind  is  fatigued  by  the  monotonous  account  of  acts  of 
violence  and  of  fraud  springing  from  no  fixed  policy,  tending 
to  no  end,  leaving  no  lasting  impress  upon  the  world.'  The 
two  queens  Fredegonde  and  Brunehaut  rise  cons]>ieuous  above 
other  figures  for  their  fierce  and  undaunted  ambition,  for  the 
fascination  they  exercised  over  the  minds  of  multitudes,  and 
for  the  number  and  atrocity  of  their  crimes.  All  classes 
seem  to  have  been  almost  equally  tainted  with  vice.  We 
read  of  a  bishop  named  Cautinus,  who  had  to  be  earned, 
when  intoxicated,  by  four  men  from  the  table ;  ^  who,  upon 


'  Gibbon    says    of  the  period  Tours.   In  the  conflict  of  barbarism 

during  which  the  Merovingian  dy-  with   Roman   Christianity,   barba- 

nasty  reigned,  that   'it  would  bo  risin  has  introduced  into  Ghristia- 

diffi';ult  to  find  anywhere  more  vice  nity  all  its  ferocity  with  none  of  its 

or  less  virtue.'    Hallam  reprodiices  generosity  and    magnanimity;    its 

this  observation,  and  adds  :   '  The  energy  shows  itself  in  atrocity  of 

factsofthesetiniesareof littleother  cruelty,    and    even    of    sensuality, 

importance  than  as  they  impress  Christianity  has  given   to  barba- 

on  the  mind  a  thorougli  notion  of  rism   liardly  more  than  its  super- 

the  extreme  wickedness  of  almost  stition  an  I   its   hatred  of  heretics 

every  person  concerned   in  them,  and  unbilievers.    Tliroughoiit,  as- 

and  consequently  of   the  state  to  sissi nations,  parricides,  and  fratri- 

which  society  w;us  reduced.' — Hid.  cides   intermingle  with  adulteries 

(if  the  Middle  A'/es,  ch.  i.     Dean  and  rapes.' — H ist on/ nf  Latin  Chris- 

Mdman    is    equally    unfavouraMe  tiaui/i/,  vol.  i.  p.  365 
and  emphatic  in  his  judgment.    '  It  •'  Orcg.Tur.iv.  12.  Gregorymen- 

is  difficult  to  conceive  a  more  dark  tions  (v.  il)  another  lii>hop  who 

and  odious  state  of  society  than  used  tobecome  sointo.xicated  as  to 

that  of  France  under  her  Merovin-  be  unable  to  stand  ;  and  St.  Boni- 

gian    kings,    the    descendants    of  face,  after  describing  the  extreme 

Olovis,  as  described  by  Gregory  of  sensuality  of  the  clergy  of  his  time 


FROM    CONSTANTIXE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  237 

tlie  refusal  of  one  of  his  piiests  to  surrender  some  private 
pr0j^)erty,  deliberately  ordered  that  priest  to  be  buried  alive, 
and  who,  when  the  victim,  escaping  by  a  happy  chance  from 
ihe  sepulchre  in  which  he  had  been  immured,  revealed  the 
crime,  received  no  greater  punishment  than  a  censure.'  The 
'worst  sovereigns  found  flatterers  or  agents  in  ecclesiastics. 
Fredegonde  deputed  two  clerks  to  murder  Childebert,^  and 
another  clerk  to  murder  Brunehaut ;  ^  she  caused  a  bishop  of 
llouen  to  be  assassinated  at  the  altar — a  bishop  and  an  arch- 
deacon being  her  accomplices;'*  and  she  fomid  iu  another 
bishop,  named  ^5^gidius,  one  of  her  most  devoted  instruments 
and  friends.^  The  pope,  St.  Gregory  the  Gi-eat,  was  an 
ardent  flatterer  of  Brmiehaut.^  Gvmdebald,  haATng  murdered 
his  three  brothers,  was  consoled  by  St.  Avitus,  the  bishop  of 
Yienne,  who,  without  iutimatiug  the  slightest  disapprobation 
of  the  act,  assui-ed  him  that  by  removing  his  rivals  he  had 
been  a  providential  agent  ia  preserving  the  happiness  of  his 
people.^  The  bishoprics  were  filled  by  men  of  notorious 
debaiichery,  or  by  grasping  misers.*  The  priests  sometimes 
celebrated  the  sacred  mysteries  '  gorged  with  food  aud  dull 
with  wine.'^  They  had  already  begun  to  carry  arms, 
and    Gregory    tells    of    two    bishops  of    the   sixth    ceutury 


adds  th.-it  there  are  some  bishops  iUK'l):it  regni  felicitas  numerum  re- 

'  qui    licet   dicant    se    furnicarius  galium  ptrsonarum.' 

vel  adul teres  non  esse,  sed  sunt  "  See  the  empliatic  testimony  of 

ebriosi     et     injuriosi,'     &c. — t'p.  St.  Boniface  in  t lie  eighth  century. 

xlix.  '  Modo  autem  maxima  ex  parte  per 

'  Greg.  Tur.  iv.  12.  civitates  episcopales  sedes  traditae 

■'Ibid.  viii.  29.    She  gave  them  sunt  laicis  cupidis  ad  possidenduni, 

knives  with   hollow  gi'ooves,  filled  vel   adulteratis  clericis,    scortato- 

with  poison,  in  the  blades.  rilus  et  publicanis  sjtculariter  ;td 

'  Ibid.  vii.  20.  perfruendum.' — Epigi.xlix.  '  ad  Z:v- 

*  Ibid.  viii.  31-41.  chariam.'     The  whole  epistle  con- 

*  Ibid.  X.  19.  tains  an  appalling  picture  of  the 

*  .Sue    his  very  curious   corre-  clerical  vices  of  the  times, 
fpondence  Avith  her. —  Ep.  vi.  5,  "More  than  one  Council  ma )« 
50,  59;  ix.  11,  117:  xi.  62-63.  decrees  about  this.     St-o  tlie  Vi 

'  Avitus,  £■/).  V.  He  adds:  'Mi-  de  St.  Leger,  bj  Dom   Pitra,  pp. 

172-177. 


238  HISTOllY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

who  had  killed  many  enemies  with  their  own  hands.'  There 
was  scarcely  a  reign  that  was  not  marked  by  some  atrocic/us 
domestic  tragedy.  There  were  few  sovereigns  who  were  not 
guilty  of  at  least  one  deliberate  murder.  Never,  perhaps, 
was  the  infliction  of  mutilation,  and  prolonged  and  agonising 
forms  of  death,  more  common.  We  read,  among  other  atro- 
cities, of  a  bishop  being  driven  to  a  distant  place  of  exile 
npon  a  bed  of  thorns ;  -  of  a  king  burning  together  his  rebel- 
lious son,  his  daughter-iji-law,  and  their  daughters  ;  ^  of  a 
queen  condemning  a  daughter  she  had  had  by  a  former  mar- 
riage to  be  drowned,  lest  her  beauty  should  excite  the  passions 
of  her  husband  ;  ■*  of  another  queen  endeavouring  to  strangle 
her  daughter  with  her  own  hands  ;  *  of  an  abbot,  compelling 
a  poor  man  to  a})andon  his  house,  that  he  might  commit 
adultery  with  his  wife,  and  being  murdered,  together  with  his 
partner,  in  the  act;^  of  a  prince  who  made  it  an  habitual 
amusement  to  torture  his  slaves  with  fii-e,  and  who  buried 
two  of  them  aUve,  because  they  had  married  without  his 
permis.sion ;  ^  of  a  bishop's  wife,  who,  besides  other  crimes, 
was  accustomed  to  mutilate  men  and  to  torture  women,  by 
applying  I'ed-hot  ii'ons  to  the  most  sensitive  parts  of  their 
bodies ;  ^  of  gi-eat  numbers  who  were  deprived  of  theii"  ears 


'  Greg.  Tur.  iv.  43.     St.  Boiii-  husliaml  within    the   precincts   of 

face,  at  a  niuch  later  period  (a.d.  the  niunas-tery,  that  he  might  niur- 

742),  talivs  of  bishops  'Qui  p"g-  der  iiim. 
nant  in   cxercitu  arinati  ct  eli'un-  '  Jliid  v.  3. 

dunt  propria  manu  saiiguineni  ho-  "  lliid.  viii.  39.  Slio  was  guilty 

minuni.' — Ep.  xlix.  of  many  other  crimes,  which    the 

*  Grec;.  Tur.  iv.  26.  historian  says  '  itisbetter  to  pass  in 

•  Ibid.  iv.  20.  silence.'     The  bishop  himself  had 

*  Ii)id.  iii.  26.       '  Ibid.  ix.  34.  been  ^milty  of  outrageous  and  vio- 

•  Ibid.  viii.  19.  Gregory  says  lent  tyranny.  The  marri;ige  of 
this  story  should  warn  cler-  ecclesiastics  appears  at  this  lime 
gymen  not  to  meddle  with  the  to  have  been  common  in  Caul, 
wives  of  other  people,  but  'content  though  the  best  men  commonly  di- 
themselves  with  those  that  theymay  sorted  their  wives  when  they  were 

F)088e88  without  crime.'    The  abbot  ordained.  Another  bishop's  wife  (iv. 

lad  previously  tried  to  seduce  the  36)  was  notorious  for  her  tyranny. 


FROM    COXSTANTIXE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  239 

unci  noses,  tortured  through  sevei-al  days,  and  at  hxst  biunit 
alive  or  broken  slowly  on  the  wheel.  Brunehaut,  at  the 
close  of  her  long  and  in  some  respects  gi-eat  though  guilty 
career,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Clotaire,  and  the  old  queen, 
ha^Tug  been  subjected  for  three  days  to  various  kinds  of 
torture,  "was  led  out  on  a  camel  for  the  derision  of  the  army, 
and  at  last  bound  to  the  tail  of  a  furious  horse,  and  dashed 
to  pieces  in  its  course.^ 

And  yet  this  age  was,  in  a  certain  sense,  eminently 
religious.  All  literature  had  become  sacred.  Heresy  of 
every  kind  was  rapidly  expii'ing.  The  priests  and  monks 
had  acquired  enormous  power,  and  their  wealth  was  inor- 
dinately increasing.^  Several  sovereigns  voluntaiily  aban- 
doned their  thrones  for  the  monastic  life.^  The  seventh 
century,  which,  together  with  the  eighth,  forms  the  darkest 
period  of  the  dark  ages,  is  famous  in  the  hagiology  as 
iiaving  produced  more  saints  than  any  other  century, 
except  that  of  the  martyrs.^ 

The  manner  in  which  events  were  regarded  by  historians 
was  also  exceedingly  characteristic.    Oui'  principal  authority, 


'  Fredigarius,  slii.     The  histo-  nombre  considerable  de  saints  qu'il 

rian  describes  Clotaire  as  a  perfect  a  produits.  .  .  .  Aucun  siecle  n'a 

paragon  of  Christian  graces.  ete   ainsi   glorifie  sauf   I'age   des 

■^  'Au  sixieme  siecle  on  compto  martyrs  dont  Dieu  s'est  reserve  de 

214    ^Lablissements    religieux   des  compter  le  nombre.    Chaque  annee 

P3'renees  a  la  Loire  et  des  bouches  fouruit  sa  nioisson,  chaque  jour  a 

dii  Rhone  aux  Vosges.' — Ozanam,  sa  gerbe.  ...   Si  done  il  phut  a 

Etudes  gcrmaniqiicg,  tome  ii.  p.  93.  Dieu  et  au   Christ  de  repandre  a 

In  the  two  following  centuries  the  pleines   mains    sur  un   siecle    les 

ecclesiastical     wtalth    was     enor-  splendours  des  saints,   qu"importe 

mously  increased.  que  I'histoire  et  la  gloire  huniaine 

'  Miitthew  of  Westminster  (a. n.  en  tiennent  peuconipte?' — Pitra, 

757)  speaks  of  no  less  than  eight  Vie  de  St.  Ligir,  Introd.  p.  x.-xi. 

Saxon  kings  having  done  this.  This    harned    and  very  creduloiis 

*  '  Le  septi^me  siecle  est  celui  writer(whois  now  acardinal)after 

peut-etre  qui  a  donne  le  plus  de  wards  says  that  we  have  the  rccoi-d 

laints  au   calendricT.'  —  Sismondi,  of  more  than  eight   hundred  saints 

Hist,  de  France,    tome   ii.    p.   50.  of  the  seventh  century.  (Introd.  p. 

'  Le  plus    beau   titre  du  septiemo  lx.\x.) 

liecle  a  une  rehabilitiition  c'est  le 


<i40  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Gregory  of  Tours,  was  a  bishop  of  great  eminence,  and  a 
man  of  the  most  genuine  piety,  and  of  very  strong  affections. ' 
He  describes  his  work  as  a  record  '  of  the  vii-tues  of  saints, 
and  the  disasters  of  nations ; '  ^  and  the  student  who  turns  to 
his  pages  from  those  of  the  Pagan  historians,  is  not  more 
struck  by  the  extreme  prominence  he  gives  to  ecclesiastical 
events,  than  by  the  uniform  manner  in  which  he  views 
all  secular  events  in  their  religious  aspect,  as  governed 
and  directed  by  a  special  Providence.  Yet,  in  questions 
^\here  the  difference  between  orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy 
is  concerned,  his  ethics  sometimes  exhibit  the  most  singular 
distortion.  Of  this,  probably  the  most  impressive  example 
is  the  manner  in  which  he  has  described  the  career  of 
Clovis,  the  great  representative  of  orthodoxy. ^  Having 
recounted  the  circumstances  of  his  conversion,  Gregory 
proceeds  to  tell  us,  with  undisguised  admiration,  how  that 
chieftain,  as  the  fii'st-fruits  of  his  doctrine,  professed  to  be 
grieved  at  seeing  that  part  of  Gaul  was  held  by  an  Arian 
sovereign ;  how  he  accordingly  resolved  to  invade  and 
appropriate  tliat  territory ;  how,  with  admirable  piety,  he 
commanded  his  soldiers  to  abstain  from  all  devastations  when 
traversing  the  territory  of  St.  Martin,  and  how  several 
mii-acles  attested  the  Divine  approbation  of  the  expedition. 
The  war — which  is  the  fir.st  of  the  long  series  of  professedly 
religious  wars  that  have  been  undertaken  by  Christians — 
was  fully  successful,  and  Clovis  proceeded  to  direct  hia 
ambition  to  new  fields.  In  his  ex{)edition  against  the 
Arians,  he  had  found  a  faithful  ally  in  his  relative  Sighebert, 
the  old  and  infirm  king  of  the  lii])uarian  Franks.  Clovis 
now  proceeded  artfully  to  suggest  to  the  son  of  Sighebert 
the  advantages  that  son  might  obtain  by  his  father's  death. 
The  hint  was  taken,     Sighebert  was  murdered,  and  Cloviii 


'  See,  e.g.,  the  very  toucliingpjis-  *  Lib.  ii.  Prologue. 

«Hgo  About  the  dbttth  of  his  cliil-  •  Greg.  Tur.  ii.  27-43. 

dren,  v.  36. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  241 

Bent  ambassadors  to  the  pan-icicle,  pi'ofessing  a  warm  liiend- 
ship,  but  with  secret  orders  on  the  fii'st  opportunity  to  kill 
him.  This  being  done,  and  the  kingdom  being  left  entirely 
without  a  head,  Clovis  proceeded  to  Cologne,  the  capital  of 
Sighebert;  he  assembled  the  people,  professed  with  much 
Bohmnity  his  horror  of  the  tragedies  that  had  taken  place, 
and  his  complete  innocence  of  all  connection  with  them ;  ' 
but  suggested  that,  as  they  were  now  without  a  ruler,  they 
should  place  themselves  under  his  protection.  The  proposi- 
tion was  received  with  acclamation.  The  warriors  elected 
him  as  their  king,  and  thus,  says  the  episcojial  historian, 
'  Clovis  received  the  treasures  and  dominions  of  Sighebert, 
and  added  them  to  his  own.  Every  day  God  caused  his 
enemies  to  fall  beneath  his  hand,  and  enlarged  his  kingdom, 
because  he  walked  with  a  right  heai't  before  the  Lord,  and 
did  the  things  that  were  pleasing  in  His  sight.'  ^  His 
ambition  was,  however,  still  unsated.  He  proceeded,  in  a 
succession  of  exi)editions,  to  unite  the  whole  of  Gaul  under 
his  sceptre,  invading,  defeating,  capturing,  and  slaying  the 
lawful  sovereigns,  who  were  for  the  most  part  his  own 
relations.  Having  secured  himself  against  dangers  from 
without,  by  killing  all  his  relations,  with  the  exception  of 
his  wife  and  children,  he  is  reported  to  have  lamented 
before  his  courtiers  his  isolation,  declaring  that  he  had  no 
relations  remaining  in  the  -norld  to  assist  him  in  his 
adversity ;  but  this  speech,  Gregoiy  assures  us,  was  a  strata- 
gem ;  for  the  king  desu-ed  to  discover  whether  any  possible 
pretender  to  the  throne  had  escaped  his  knowledge  and  his 


'  lie  observes  how  impossible  it  ^  '  Prosternebat   enini  quotidia 

was  that  he  could  beguilty  of  shed-  Dens  hostes  ejus  sub  manu  ipsius, 

dins  the  blood  of  a  relation  :  '  ^cd  et  au<»ebat  regnum   ejus    eo  quod 

in    his    ego    ntquaquain    conscius  ambularet  recto  corde  coram  eo,  et 

8um.    Noc  enim  possum  sanguinem  faceret  quae  placita  erant  in  oculis 

parcntum    meorum    etfundere.' —  ejus.' — Greg.  Tur.  ii.  40. 
Greg.  Tut  ii.  40 


242  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Bword,  Soon  after,  he  died,  full  of  years  and  honours,  and 
was  buried  in  a  cathedral  which  he  had  built. 

Having  recounted  all  these  things  with  unmoved  com. 
posnre,  Gregory  of  Tours  requests  his  reader  to  permit  him 
to  pause,  to  draw  the  moral  of  the  history.  It  is  the 
admirable  manner  in  which  Providence  guides  all  things 
for  the  benefit  of  those  whose  opinions  concerning  the  Trinity 
are  strictly  orthodox.  Having  briefly  referred  to  Abraham, 
Jacob,  Moses,  Aaron,  and  David,  all  of  whom  are  said  to 
have  intimated  the  correct  doctrine  on  this  subject,  and 
all  of  whom  were  exceedingly  prosperous,  he  passes  to  more 
modern  times.  *  Arius,  the  impious  founder  of  the  impious 
sect,  his  entrails  having  ftillen  oiit,  passed  into  tlie  flames  of 
hell ;  but  Hilary,  the  blessed  defender  of  the  undivided 
Trinity,  though  exiled  on  tliat  account,  found  liis  country  in 
Paradise.  The  King  Clovis,  who  confessed  the  Trinity, 
and  by  its  assistance  crushed  the  heretics,  extended  his 
dominions  through  all  Gaul.  Alaric,  who  denied  the  Trinity, 
was  deprived  of  his  kingdom  and  his  subjects,  and,  what  was 
far  worse,  was  punished  in  the  future  world.' ' 

It  would  be  easy  to  cite  other,  though  perhaps  not  quite 
such  striking,  instances  of  the  degree  in  which  the  moral 
judgments  of  this  unhappy  age  wei-e  distorted  by  superstition. * 
Questions  of  orthodoxy,  or  questions  of  fasting,  appeared  to 
the  popular  mind  immeasurably  more  im})ortant  than  what 


'  Lib.  iii.  Prologue.    St.  Avitus  Msliop  wlio  m;if1o  a  Danish  nolile- 

eimnieratcM  in  plowing  terms   tho  niMu   drunk,  that  ho  might  cheat 

Christian  virtue8ofCI'>vis(A'/'.x]i.).  him  out  of  an  estate,  •which  is  told 

but,  as  thiswas  in  a  letter  adilrosscd  -with  nincli  approbation.    Walter  de 

to  the  king  himself,  the  eulogy  may  ]Icmingf()rd  records,  with  excessive 

easily  be  explained.  delight,   tlie   well-known    story  of 

'•^  Thus Ilallam  says: 'There  are  the  Jews  who  wore  persuaded  by 

continual  proofs  of  immorality  in  the  captain  of  their  vessel  to  walk 

the    monkish    hiiibjrians.      In    tho  on  tlw  sands  at  low  water  till  the 

history  of  Kumsey  Abbey,  one  of  rising  tide   drowned  them.' — Ilal 

our  best  documents  for  Anglo-Saxon  lam's  Middle  Aycs{\2\]\  ed.),  iii.  p. 

times,  we  have   an  anecdote  of  a  300. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  243 

we  should  now  call  the  fundamental  principles  of  right 
and  \\  I'ong.  A  law  of  Charlemagne,  and  also  a  law  of  the 
Saxons,  condemned  to  death  any  one  who  ate  meat  in  Lent,' 
uoless  the  priest  was  satisfied  that  it  was  a  matter  of  absolute 
necessity.  The  moral  enthusiasm  of  the  age  chiefly  drove 
men  to  abandon  their  civic  or  domestic  duties,  to  immure 
themselves  in  monasteries,  and  to  waste  their  strength  by 
prolonged  and  extravagant  maceration. ^  Yet,  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  supei'stition,  there  can  be  no  question  that  in 
some  respects  the  religious  agencies  were  operating  for  good. 
The  monastic  bodies  that  everywhere  arose,  formed  secure 
asylums  for  the  multitudes  who  had  been  persecuted  by 
their  enemies,  constituted  an  invaluable  counterpoise  to  the 
rude  military  forces  of  the  time,  familiarised  the  imagination 
of  men  with  religious  types  that  could  hardly  fail  in  some 
degree  to  soften  the  character,  and  led  the  way  in  most 
forms  of  peaceful  labour.  "When  men,  filled  with  admiration 
at  the  reports  of  the  sanctity  and  the  miracles  of  some 
illustrious  saint,  made  pilgrimages  to  behold  him,  and  found 
him  attired  in  the  rude  garb  of  a  peasant,  with  thick  shoes, 
and  with  a  scythe  on  his  shoulder,  superintending  the  labours 
of  the  fai'mers,^  or  sitting  in  a  small  attic  mending  lamps,^ 
whatever  other  benefit  they  might  derive  from  the  interview, 
they  could  scarcely  fail  to  return  with  an  increased  sense  of 


'  Canciani,  Lcr/cs   Barharorum,  cinq  cens  trcntc-nenf,  s'il  no  s'en 

vol.  iii.  p.  Gl.      Canciani    notices,  repentoit:  et  .iac;oit  qii'il  se  repen- 

that  anions  the  Polos  the  teeth  of  tist  si  estoit-il  pendu  par  compis- 

the  offendinix  persons  wore  pulled  sion).' — Demonomanie  des  Sorciers, 

out.     The  following  passage,  fronn  p.  216. 

Budin.  is,  I  think,  very  remarkable :  '^  A  long  list  of  examples  of  ex- 

'Les  loi.\  ct  canons  veiilent  qu'on  treme  maceration,  from  lives  of  the 

pardonno  aux   heretiques  repeiitis  saints  of  the   seventh    atul  eii;hth 

(combien    que   les    magistrals    en  centuries  is  given  by  Pitra,  J'ie  <& 

<]utlqiics  lieux  par  cy-devant,  y  ont  i>t.  l.iycr.  Introd.  pp.  cr.-cvii. 
eu  tel  esgard,  quo  celui  qui  avoit  *  This  was  related  of  St.  Equi- 

niang^   de   la  chair  au  Vendredy  tins. — Greg.  Dialog,  i.  4. 
estoit  brusl6  tout  vif,  comme  il  fut  *  Ibid.    i.    5._    This    saint  was 

fuict  en  la  ville  d'Augcrs  I'an  mil  named  Constaiilius. 


244-  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  flignity  of  labour.     It  was  probably  at  this  time  as  much 
for    the   benefit    of   the   world  as  of  the  Church,  that  the 
ecclesiastical  sauctuaries  and  estates  should  remain  inviolate, 
and  the  numerous  legends    of  Divine    punishment   havu7g 
overtaken  those  who  transgi-essed  them,^  attest  the  zeal  with 
which  the  clergy  sought  to  establish  that  inviolability.     The 
great    sanctity   that  was  attached  to  holidays  was  also  an 
important  boon  to  the  servile  classes.     The  celebration  of  the 
first  day  of  the  week,  in  commemoration  of  the  resuiTCction, 
and  as  a  period  of  religious  exercises,  dates  from  the  earliest 
age    of  the    Church.     The  Christian  festival  was  carefully 
distinguished  from  the  Jewish  Sabbath,  with  which  it  never 
appears  to  have  been  confounded  till  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth cenlury;  but  some  Jewish  converts,  who  considered 
the  Jewish  law  to  be  still  in  force,  observed  both  days.    In 
general,  however,  the  Christian  festival  alone  was  observed, 
and   the    Jewish    Sabbatical    obligation,    as  St.  Paul  most 
explicitly  affirms,  no  longer  rested  upon  the  Christians.     The 
grounds   of  the    observance   of   Sunday  were  the  manifest 
propriety  and  expediency  of  devoting  a  certain  portion  of 
time   to   devout   exercLscs,   the    tradition  which  traced  the 
sanctification  of  Sunday  to  apostolic  times,  and  the  right  of 
the  Church  to  appoint  certain  seasons  to  be  kept  holy  by  its 
members.     \Vlien  Clu-istiauity  acquired  an  ascendancy  in  the 
Empire,  its  policy  on  this  subject  was  manifested  in  one  of 
the  laws  of  Constantino,  which,  without  making  any  direct 
reference  to  religious  motives,  ordered  that,  '  on  the  day  of 
the    sun,'   no    servile   work    should    be   performed   except 


'  A  vast  number  of  miracles  of  broken  into  rebellion,  four  bi^liops, 

this  kind  are  recorded.     Sop,  e.g.,  with   their  attemisnt  cleitiy,  went 

Greg.  Tur.  iJe  MiracuHs,  i.  61-G6  ;  to  compose  the  dispute,  and  having 

Jlist.  iv.  49.     Periiups    the    most  failed,  exeomniuiiicated  the  rebels, 

Bingular  instance  of  the  violation  of  -vvhereupon   the   nuns   almost   beat 

tlie  sanctity  of  tlie  cliurch  was  that  them     to    (k'ath    in    the     cliurch. 

Ly  the  nnns  of  a  convent  founded  ^Urcg.  Tur.  ix.  41. 
by  St.  liadegunda.     They,  having 


FKOM    C0N5TANTINE    TO   CHARLEMAGNE.  245 

agi'icuUdre,  which,  being  dependent  on  the  weather,  couhl 
not,  it  was  tliought,  be  reasonably  postponed.  Theodosius 
took  a  step  further,  and  suppressed  the  pulilic  spectacles  on 
that  day.  During  the  centuries  that  immediately  followed 
the  dissolution  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  clergy  devote*"; 
themselves  with  grc^it  and  praiseworthy  zeal  to  the  suppi-ession 
of  labour  both  on  Sundays  and  on  the  other  leading  Churclt 
holidays.  More  than  one  law  was  made,  forbidding  all 
Sunday  labour,  and  this  prohibition  was  reiterated  by 
Charlemagne  in  his  Capitularies.'  Several  Councils  made 
decrees  on  the  subject,^  and  several  legends  were  circulated, 
of  men  who  had  been  afflicted  miraculously  with  disease  ot 
with  death,  for  having  been  guilty  of  this  sin.^  Although 
the  moral  side  of  i-eligion  was  greatly  degraded  or  forgotten, 
there  was,  as  I  have  alieady  intimated,  one  important  excep 
tion.  Charity  was  so  interwoven  with  the  superstitious 
pai-ts  of  ecclesiastical  teaching,  that  it  continued  to  grow  and 
flourish  in  the  darkest  period.  Of  the  acts  of  Queen  Bathilda, 
it  is  said  we  know  nothing  except  her  donations  to  the 
monasteries,  and  the  charity  with  Avhich  she  purchased  slaves 
and  captives,  and  released  them  or  converted  them  into 
monks.*  While  many  of  the  bishops  were  men  of  gi-oss  and 
scandalous  vice,  there  were  always  some  who  laboured 
assiduously  in  the  old  episcopal  vocation  of  protecting  the 
oppressed,  interceding  for  the  captives,  and  opening  their 
sanctuaries  to  the  fugitives.    St.  Germanus,  a  bishop  of  Pa  lis. 


'  See  Canciani,  Leges  Barbara-     iv.  57 ;  v.  7.     One  of  these  cases. 
rum,  vol.  iii.  pp.  10,  151.  however,  wasfor  having  worked  on 


z 


Much  information  about  these  tlio  day  of  St.  John  the  Kaptijit. 

measures  is  given  by  Dr.  Hessey,  Some  other  miracles  of  the  same 

in  his  Bampton  Lectures  on  Su/ida>/.  n;iture,  taken,  I  believe,  from  Enff- 

S'^e    especially,  lect.   3.     See,  too,  glisli  sources,  are  given  in  Hessey'B 

Moehler,  Le  Christianismc  et  VEs-  Sniidar/  (3i\l edition),  p.  321. 

clavage,  pp.  186-187.  *  Compare  Pitra,  Vie.   do   Si  ■ 

*  Gregory  of  Tours  enumerates  Legcr.p.  137.     Sismondi,  Hist,  dot 

Bome  instances  of  thi.s  in  his  extra-  Franfais,  tome  ii.  pp.  62-63. 
ragant  book  De  Mimcnlix.  ii.  1 1  ; 

48 


246  nisTORT  OF  European  morals. 

near  the  clof.e  of  the  sixth  century,  was  especially  famous  for 
his  zeal  m  lansoniing  captives.'  The  fame  he  acquired  was 
so  great,  that  prisoners  are  said  to  have  called  upon  him 
to  assist  them,  in  the  interval  between  his  death  and  hie 
buiial ;  and  the  body  of  tlie  saint  Ix^coming  miraculously 
heavy,  it  was  found  impossible  to  carry  it  to  the  grave  till 
the  captives  had  been  released.^  In  the  midst  of  the  complete 
eclipse  of  all  seciilar  learning,  in  the  midst  of  a  reign  of 
ignorance,  imposture,  and  credulity  which  cannot  be  paralleled 
in  history,  there  grew  up  a  vast  legendary  literature,  cluster- 
ing around  the  form  of  the  ascetic ;  and  the  lives  of  the  saints, 
among  very  much  that  is  grotesque,  childish,  and  even 
immoral,  contain  some  fragments  of  the  purest  and  most 
touching  religious  poetry.^ 

But  the  chief  title  of  the  period  we  are  considering,  to 
the  indulgence  of  posterity,  lies  in  its  missionary  labours. 
The  stream  of  missionaries  which  had  at  first  fiowed  from 
Palestine  and  Italy  began  to  flow  from  the  West.  The 
Iri.sh  monasteiies  fui-nislied  the  earliest,  and  probably  the 
most  numerous,  labourei-s  in  the  field.  A  great  portion  of 
the  north  of  England  was  converted  by  the  Irish  monks  of 
Lindisfarne.  The  fame  of  St.  Columbanus  in  Gaul,  in 
Grcrmany,  and  in  Italy,  for  a  time  even  balanced  that  of  St. 
Benedict  himself,  and  the  school  which  he  founded  at  Luxeuil 
became  the  great  seminaiy  for  mediaeval  missionaries,  while 


'  See  a remarkahle  passage  from  ofA(/'ied.)     There  was  a   popiil;ir 

his  life,  cited  liy  Guizot, ///.■>/.  (fc /rt  legend   that   a  poor    man    having 

Civilisation  en  France,  xvii™'  lo(,on.  in  vain  asked  alms  of  some  sailors. 

The    English     liistorians    cont;iin  all  the   bread  in  their  vessel  was 

several  instances  of  the  activity  of  turned  into  stone.    (Roger  of  Wen- 

charity  in  the  dai'kest  period.     Al-  djvcr,  ad.  G06.)    See,  too.  .'mother 

fred   and    Edward    the   Confessor  legend   of   charity  in    Matthew  of 

were  conspicuous  for  it.    Ethelwolf  AVist minster,  a.d.  G1  I. 
J8  said  to   have  p^o^^■ded,  'for  the  '  (ireg.  Tnr.  Hist,  v   8. 

good  of  his  siul,'  that,  till  the  day  '  M.  Guizot  has  given  several 

of  judgment,  one  poor  man  in  ten  specimens  of  this  (//i3.^'/«irt  Citiilfs. 

should    bo    provided    with    meat,  xvii""  It-^on). 
drink,  and  clothing.    (.Asser's  Jjtfe 


I'ROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  247 

the  monastery  he  planted  at  Bobbio  continued  to  the  present 
century.  The  Irish  missionary,  St.  Gall,  gave  his  name  to 
a  portion  of  Switzerland  he  had  converted,  and  a  crowd  of 
other  Irish  missionaries  penetrated  to  the  remotest  forests  of 
Gtirmanv.  The  movement  which  beoan  with  St.  Colnmba 
in  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  was  communicated  to 
England  and  Gaul  about  a  century  later.  Early  in  the 
eighth  century  it  found  a  great  leader  in  the  Anglo-Saxon 
St.  Boniface,  who  spread  Christianity  far  and  wide  thi-ough 
Germany,  and  at  once  excited  and  disciplined  an  ardent 
enthusiasm,  wliich  appears  to  have  attracted  all  that  was 
morally  bfst  in  the  Church.  Duiiag  about  three  centuries, 
and  while  Europe  had  sunk  into  the  most  extreme  moral, 
intellectual,  and  political  degi-adation,  a  constant  stream  of 
missionaries  ]ioured  forth  from  the  monasteries,  who  spread 
the  knowledge  of  the  Cross  and  the  seeds  of  a  future  civi- 
lisation through  every  laud,  from  Lombardy  to  Sweden.' 

On  the  whole,  however,  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate 
the  superstition  and  the  vice  of  the  period  between  the  dis- 
solution of  the  Empire  and  the  reign  of  Charlemagne.  But 
in  the  midst  of  the  chaos  the  elements  of  a  new  society  may 
be  detected,  and  we  may  already  observe  in  embryo  the 
movement  which  ultimately  issued  in  the  crusades,  the  feudal 
system,  and  chivalry.  It  is  exclusively  with  the  moral 
aspect  of  this  movement  that  the  present  work  is  con- 
cerned, and  I  shall  endeavour,  in  the  remainder  of  this 
chapter,  to  describe  and  explain  its  incipient  stages.  It 
consisted  of  two  parts — a  fusion  of  Christianity   with   the 


'  This  portion  of  mcdijeval  his-  and  in  the  Lives  of  the  Saints 

fory  has    lately  been    well   tniced  especially  that  of  St.  Coluniba,  by 

by  Mr.  Maclear,  in   his   History  of  Atlamnan.    On  the  French  mission- 

Christian  Missioiis   in  the  Middle  ai-ies,  see  the  Benedictine  Hist.  lit. 

Ages  (1863).     See.  too.  Montalem-  de  la  France,  t<3me  iv.  p.  5  ;  and  on 

hfivis  Moines d'Occideiit;  Ozi\n?Lms  tlie   English    mibsionaries.   Sharon 

ttudes  germaniques.     The  oricfinal  Turner's  Hist,  of  Eighiid,  book  x. 

materials  are  ro  be  found  in  Bede.  ch.  ii. 


248  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

niililaiy    spirit,    anrl    an    increasing   reverence   for   secnlai 
rank. 

It  had  been  an  ancient  maxim  of  the  Greeks,  that  no 
more  acceptable  gifts  can  be  offered  in  the  temples  of  the 
gods  than  the  trophies  won  from  an  enemy  in  battle.*  Of 
this  military  religion  Christianity  had  been  at  fii-st  tho 
extreme  negation,  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  obsei've 
that  it  had  been  one  of  its  earliest  rules  that  no  arms  should 
be  introduced  within  the  church,  and  that  soldiers  returnir\g 
even  from  the  most  righteous  war  should  not  be  admitted  to 
communion  untU  after  a  peiiod  of  penance  and  pui'ification. 
A  powerful  party,  which  counted  among  its  leaders  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  TertuUian,  Origen,  Lactantius,  and  Basil, 
maintained  that  all  warfare  was  unlawful  for  those  who  had 
been  converted  ;  and  this  opinion  had  its  martyr  in  the  cele- 
brated Maximilianus,  who  suffered  death  under  Diocletian 
solely  because,  having  been  enrolled  as  a  soldier,  he  declared 
that  he  was  a  Christian,  and  that  therefore  he  could  not 
fight.  The  extent  to  which  this  docti-ine  was  disseminated 
has  been  suggested  with  much  plausibility  as  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  Diocletian  persecution.^  It  was  the  subject  of 
one  of  the  reproaches  of  Celsus  ;  and  Origen,  in  reply,  frankly 
accepted  the  accusation  that  Christianity  was  incompatible 
with  military  service,  though  he  maintained  that  the  prayers 
of  the  Christians  -were  more  efficacious  than  the  swoi'ds  of 
the  legions.^  At  the  same  time,  there  can  be  no  question 
that  many  Christians,  from  a  very  early  d.ate,  did  enlist  in 
the  army,  and  that  they  were  not  cut  off  fi-om  the  Church. 
The  legend  of  the  thundering  legion,  under  Marcus  Aurelius- 
whatever  we  may  think  of  the  pretended  miiacle,  attested 
tlie  fact,  and  it  is  expressly  assei-ted  by  Tcj-tullian.*     The 


'  I)ion  ChrysoBtom,  Or.  ii  {De          *  '  Navigamus  et  nos  voLifcuia 

Regvo).  pt  militamus.'  —  Tert.  A}>ol.  xlii, 

^  Gibbon,  cli.  xvi.  See.  too,  Grotius  De  Jure,  i.  c;ip.  ii. 
*  Origen,  Cels.  lib.  viii. 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  249 

first  fiiry  of  the  Diocletian  persecution  fell  upon  Chaistian 
Boldiers,  and  by  the  time  of  Constantine  the  army  appears 
to  have  become,  in  a  great  degree,  Christian.  A  Council  of 
Aries,  under  Constantine,  condemned  soldiers  who,  through 
religious  motives,  deserted  their  colours ;  and  St.  Augustine 
threw  his  great  influence  into  the  same  scale.  But  even 
where  the  calling  was  not  regarded  as  sinful,  it  was  strongly 
discouraged.  The  ideal  or  type  of  supreme  excellence  con- 
ceived by  the  imagination  of  the  Pagan  world  and  to  which 
all  their  purest  moral  enthusiasm  naturally  aspired,  was  the 
patriot  and  soldier.  The  ideal  of  the  Catholic  legends  was 
the  ascetic,  whose  first  duty  was  to  abandon  all  secular 
feelings  and  ties.  In  most  family  circles  the  conflict  between 
the  two  principles  appeared,  and  in  the  moral  atmosphere  of 
the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  it  was  almost  certain  that 
every  young  man  who  was  animated  by  any  pure  or  genuine 
enthusiasm  would  turn  from  the  army  to  the  monks.  St. 
Mai'tin,  St.  Ferreol,  St.  Tairachus,  and  St.  Victvicius,  were 
among  those  who  through  religious  motives  abandoned  the 
army.'  When  Ulphilas  translated  the  Bible  into  Gothic,  he 
is  said  to  have  excepted  the  four  books  of  Kings,  through 
fear  that  they  might  encoiirage  the  maiiial  disposition  of  the 
barbarians.^ 

The  first  influence  that  contributed  to  bring  the  military 
pi'ofcssion  into  friendly  connection  with  religion  was  the 
I'eceived  doctrine  concerning  the  Providential  government 
of  afiaii's.  It  was  generally  taught  that  all  national  cata- 
strophes were  penal  inflictions,  resulting,  for  the  most  part, 
from  the  vices  or  the  religious  errors  of  the  leading  men,  and 
that  temporal  prosperity  was  the  reward  of  orthodoxy  and 


'  See  ail  admirable  dissertation  subject  is  frequently  referred  to  by 

OL  tlie  opinions  of  the  early  Chris-  Barbeyrac,  Morale  dcs  Peres,  and 

lians  about  military  service,  in  Le  Grotius,  De  Jure,  lib.  i.  cap.  ii. 
Tj\:\nt,  Iiiscriptiou.1  chritiennesde  hi  *  Philostorgius,  ii.  6. 

Gaule.  tome  i,  pp.   81-87.      The 


250  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORAL.*!. 

virtue.  A  great  battle,  on  the  issue  of  which  the  fortunes  of 
a  people  or  of  a  monarch  depended,  was  therefore  supposed 
to  be  the  special  occasion  of  Providential  interposition,  and 
the  hope  of  obtaining  military  success  became  one  of  the 
most  frequent  motives  of  conversion.  The  conversion  of 
Constantine  was  professedly,  and  the  conversion  of  Clovis 
was  perhaps  really,  due  to  the  persuasion  that  the  Divine 
interposition  had  in  a  critical  moment  given  them  the 
victory ;  and  I  have  already  noticed  how  large  a  part  must 
be  assigned  to  this  order  of  ideas  in  facilitating  the  ])rogress 
of  Christianity  among  the  barbaiians.  When  a  cross  was 
said  to  have  appeared  mii-aculously  to  Constantine,  with  an 
inscription  announcing  the  victory  of  the  Milvian  bridge ; 
when  the  same  holy  sign,  adorned  with  the  sacred  mono- 
gram, was  carried  in  the  forefront  of  the  Roman  armies ; 
when  the  nails  of  the  cross,  which  Helena  had  brought 
from  Jerusalem,  were  converted  by  the  emperor  into  a 
helmet,  and  into  bits  for  his  war-horse,  it  was  evident  that 
a  great  change  was  passing  over  the  once  pacific  spirit  of  the 
Chui-ch.' 

IVIany  circumstances  conspired  to  accelerate  it.  Northern 
tiibcs,  who  had  been  taught  that  the  gates  of  the  Walhalla 
were  ever  open  to  the  wamor  who  presented  himself  stained 
with  the  blood  of  his  vanquished  enemies,  were  converted  to 
Chiistianity ;  but  they  carried  their  old  feelings  into  their 
new  creed.  The  conflict  of  many  races,  and  the  paralysis  of 
all  government  that  followed  the  fall  of  the  Empire,  made 
force  everywhere  dominant,  and  petty  wars  incessant.  The 
militaiy  obligations  attached  to  the  '  benefices '  which  the 
sovereigns  gave  to  their  leading  chiefs,  connected  the  idea 
of  military  service  with  that  of  rank  still  more  closely  than 
it  liad  been  connected  before,  and  rendered  it  doubly  honoui*- 


'  See  some  excellent  remnrks  on     of  Chrisiianily,  vol.  ii.  pp.   2«7- 
thia  change,  in  Milinan's  Iliatory     "iSS. 


fUOM    CONSTANTIXE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  251 

able  iu  the  eyes  of  men.  Many  bishops  and  abbots,  partly 
from  the  turl)ulence  of  theii*  times  and  characters,  and  partly, 
at  a  later  period,  from  their  position  as  great  feudal  loids, 
were  accustomed  to  lead  their  follov.ei-s  in  battle ;  and  this 
custom,  though  prohibited  by  Charlemagne,  may  be  traced 
to  so  late  a  period  as  the  battle  of  Agincoui-t.' 

The  stigma  which  Christianity  had  attached  to  war  was 
thus  gradually  effaced.  At  the  same  time,  the  Church 
remained,  on  the  whole,  a  pacific  influence.  War  was 
rather  condoned  than  consecrated,  and,  whatever  miarht  be 
the  case  with  a  few  isolated  prelates,  the  Church  did  nothing 
to  increase  or-  encourage  it.  The  transition  from  the  almost 
Quaker  tenets  of  the  primitive  Church  to  the  essentially 
military  Chiistianity  of  the  Crusades  was  chiefly  due  to 
another  cause — to  the  teiTors  and  to  the  example  of  Moham- 
medanism. 

This  great  religion,  which  so  long  i-ivalled  the  influence 
of  Christianity,  had  indeed  spread  tlie  deepest  and  most 
justifiable  panic  through  Christendom.  Without  any  of 
those  aids  to  the  imagination  which  pictures  and  images 
can  furnish,  without  any  elaborate  sacerdotal  orgtinisation, 
preaching  the  purest  Monotheism  among  ignorant  and  bar- 
bai'ous  men,  and  inculcating,  on  the  whole,  an  extremely 
high  and  noble  system  of  morals,  it  spread  with  a  rapidity 
and  it  acc^uired  a  hold  over  the  minds  of  its  votaries,  which 
it  is  probable  that  no  other  religion  has  altogether  equalled. 
It  borrowed  from  Christianity  that  doctrine  of  salvation  by 
belief,  which  is  perhaps  the  most  powerful  impulse  that  cjxii 
be  applied  to  the  chanictei-s  of  masses  of  men,  and  it  elabo- 
rated so  minutely  the  charms  of  its  sensual  heaven,  and  the 
teiTOi-s  of  its  material  hell,  as  to  cause  the  alternative  tr 
apjieal  with  unrivalled  force  to  tlie  gi-oss  imaginations  of  tin? 


'  Mably,  Obmrvations  sur  I'Higtoire  dv  France,  i.  6;  Ilalhini's  MiildU 
Ages,  ch.  ii.  part  ii. 


2o2  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

people.  It  possessed  a  book  wliicli,  however  inferior  to  that 
of  the  opposing  religion,  has  nevei-theless  been  the  consolation 
and  the  support  of  millions  in  many  ages.  It  taught  a  fatalism 
which  in  its  first  age  nerved  its  adherents  with  a  matchless 
military  courage,  and  which,  though  in  later  days  it  has 
uften  paralysed  their*  active  energies,  has  also  rarely  failed  to 
support  them  under  the  pressiire  of  inevitable  calamity. 
But,  above  all,  it  discovered  the  gi'eut,  the  fatal  secret  of 
uniting  indissolubly  the  passion  of  the  soldier  with  the 
passion  of  the  devotee.  Making  the  conquest  of  the  infidel 
the  first  of  duties,  and  proposing  heaven  as  the  cei-tain 
reward  of  the  valiant  soldier,  it  created  a  blended  enthu- 
siasm that  soon  ovei-powered  the  divided  counsels  and  the 
voluptuous  governments  of  the  East,  and,  within  a  centui-y 
of  the  death  of  INIohammed,  his  followers  had  almost  extii'pated 
Christianity  from  its  original  home,  founded  gt'eat  mon- 
archies in  Asia  and  Africa,  planted  a  noble,  though 
transient  and  exotic,  civilisation  in  Spain,  menaced  the 
capital  of  the  Eastern  empire,  and,  but  for  the  issue  of  a 
single  battle,  they  Avould  probably  have  extended  their 
sceptre  over  the  energetic  and  pi-ogiessive  races  of  Central 
Europe.  The  wave  was  broken  by  Charles  Martel,  at  tho 
battle  of  Poitiers,  and  it  is  now  useless  to  speculate  what 
might  have  been  the  consequences  had  Mohammedanism 
unfurled  its  triiimphant  banner  among  those  Teutonic  tribes 
who  have  so  often  changed  theii*  creed,  and  on  whom  the 
course  of  civilisation  has  so  largely  depended.  But  one 
great  change  was  in  fact  achieved.  The  sjiirit  of  Moham- 
medanism slowly  passed  into  Christianity,  and  transformed 
it  into  its  image.  The  spectacle  of  an  essentially  military 
religion  fiscinatod  men  who  were  at  once  very  warlike  and 
very  superstitious.  The  panic  that  had  palsied  Europe  was  after 
a  long  interval  succeeded  by  a  6erce  reaction  of  resentment. 
Pride  and  religion  conspired  to  urge  tlie  Cliristian  warriors 
against  tlio.se  who  had  so  often  defeated  tho  'armies  and 
wasted   the   territory  of  Christendom,   who   had   shorn   the 


FROM    CONSTANTINE   TO    ClIAKLEMAGNE.  253 

empire  of  the  Cross  of  many  of  its  fairest  provinces,  and 
profaned  that  holy  city  \yhich  was  venerated  not  only  for  its 
past  associations,  but  also  for  the  spiritual  blessings  it  could 
still  bestow  upon  the  pilgrim.  The  papal  indulgences  proved 
not  less  efficacious  in  stimulating  the  military  spii-it  than  tho 
promises  of  Mohammed,  and  for  abovit  two  centuries  every 
pulpit  in  Christendom  pioclaimed  the  duty  of  war  with  the 
unbeliever,  and  represented  the  battle-field  as  the  sure  path 
lo  heaven.  The  religious  orders  which  arose  imited  the 
character  of  the  priest  with  that  of  the  warrior,  and  when, 
^t  the  hour*  of  sunset,  the  soldier  knelt  do\\Ti  to  pray  before 
ais  cross,  that  cross  was  the  handle  of  his  sword. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  a  more  complete 
transformation  than  Christianity  had  thus  undergone,  and  it 
is  melancholy  to  contrast  with  its  aspect  during  the  crusades 
the  impression  it  had  once  most  justly  made  upon  the  world, 
as  the  spirit  of  gentleness  and  of  peace  encountering  the 
spii'it  of  violence  and  war.  Among  the  many  curious  habits 
of  the  Pagan  Irish,  one  of  the  most  significant  was  that  of 
perpendicular  bunal.  With  a  feeling  something  like  that 
which  induced  Vespasian  to  declare  that  a  Eoman  emperor 
should  die  standing,  the  Pagan  warriors  shrank  from  the 
notion  of  being  prostrate  even  in  death,  and  they  appear  to 
have  regarded  this  martial  burial  as  a  special  symbol  of 
Paganism.  An  old  Irish  manuscript  tells  how,  when 
Christianity  had  been  introduced  into  Ireland,  a  king  of 
Ulster  on  liis  deathbed  charged  his  son  never  to  become  a 
Christian,  but  to  be  buried  standing  upiight  like  a  man 
in  battle,  with  his  face  for  ever  turned  to  the  south,  defying 
the  men  of  Leinster. '  As  late  as  the  sixteenth  century,  it  ia 
said  that  in  some  parts  of  Ireland  chiklren  were  baptised  by 


'  \\iikemsiiisArch(eol(>giaHib(r-  are  said  to  have  been  leaders  in  n 

nica,   p.    21.      However,    Giruldus  sanguinary  conflict  about  a  cbui-cu 

Cambrensis  observes  that  the  Iris-h  near  Cokraino.     See  Reeve's  edi- 

saints   were  peculiarly   vindictive,  tion  of  Adamuan's  Life  of  Si.  Co- 

aud  St.  Columba  aud  St.  Conigall  titmba,  pp.  l.\.\vii.  253. 


254  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

immersion ;  but  the  right  arms  of  the  males  were  carefull_y 
held  above  the  water,  in  order  that,  not  having  been  dipj)ed 
in  the  sacred  stream,  they  miglit  strike  the  more  deadly 
How.' 

It  had  Ijeen  boldly  predicted  by  some  of  the  early  Chris- 
jans  that  the  conversion  of  the  world  would  lead  to  the  es- 
ablLshment  of  perpetual  peace.  In  looking  back,  with  our 
present  experience,  we  are  driven  to  the  melancholy  conclusion 
that,  instead  of  diminishing  the  number  of  wars,  ecclesiastical 
influence  has  actually  and  very  seriously  increased  it.  We  mav 
look  in  vain  for  any  period  since  Constantiiie,  in  which  the 
clergy,  as  a  body,  exerte<l  themselves  to  rei)res3  the  military 
spirit,  or  to  prevent  or  abiidge  a  paiticular  war,  with  an  energy 
at  all  comparable  to  that  which  they  displayed  in  stimulating 
the  fanaticism  of  the  crusaders,  in  producing  the  atrocious 
massacre  of  the  Albigenses,  in  embittering  the  religious  con- 
tests that  followed  the  Reformation.  Private  wars  were,  no 
doubt,  in  some  degi'ee  repressed  by  theii*  influence ;  for  the 
institution  of  the  '  Truce  of  God '  was  for  a  time  of  much 
value,  and  when,  towards  the  close  of  the  middle  agas,  tbe 
custom  of  duels  arose,  it  was  strenuously  condemned  by  the 
clergy ;  but  we  can  hardly  place  any  great  A'alue  on  their 
exertions  in  this  field,  when  we  remember  that  duels  were 
almost  or  altogether  unknown  to  the  Pagan  world;  that, 
having  arisen  in  a  period  of  great  superstition,  the  anathemas 
of  the  Church  were  almost  im])otent  to  discourage  them;  and 
that  in  our  own  century  they  are  rapidly  disappearing  before 
the  simple  censure  of  an  industrial  society.  It  is  possible — 
though  it  would,  I  imagine,  be  diflicult  to  jirove  it — that  the 
mediatorial  office,  so  often  exercised  by  bisliops,  may  some- 
times have  prevented  wars ;  and  it  is  certain  that  during  the 
period  of  the  religious  wars,  so  nuu-h  military  spirit  existed 
ill  Eiu'ope  that  it  must  necessarily  have  found  a  vent,  and 


Campion's  Hidorie  of  Ireland  (1571),  book  i.  eh.  vi. 


FROM    CONSTANTIXE   TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  255 

Cinder  no  cii-cumstaiices  could  the  period  liaA-e  been  one  of 
perfect  peace.  But  when  all  these  qualifications  have  been 
fully  admitted,  the  broad  fact  will  remain,  that,  with  the 
einiception  of  Mohammedanism,  no  other  religion  has  done  so 
mucli  to  produce  war  as  was  done  by  the  religious  teachers  of 
Christendom  during  several  centuries.  The  military  fanati- 
cism evoked  by  the  indulgences  of  the  popes,  by  the  exhorta- 
tions of  the  pulpit,  by  tbe  religious  importance  attached  to 
the  relics  at  Jerusalem,  and  by  the  prevailing  liatred  of  mis- 
l)elievers,  has  scarcely  ever  been  equalled  in  its  intensity,  and 
it  has  caused  the  effusion  of  oceans  of  blood,  and  has  been 
productive  of  incalculable  miseiy  to  the  world.  Religious 
fanaticism  was  a  main  caiise  of  the  earlier  wai-s,  and  an 
important  ingi-edient  in  the  later  ones.  The  peace  principles, 
that  were  so  common  before  Constantine,  have  found  scarcely 
any  echo  except  from  Erasmus,  the  Anabajitists,  and  the 
Quakers ;  '  and  although  some  very  imj)oi'tant  pacific  agencioa 
have  arisen  out  of  the  industrial  progress  of  modern  times, 
these  have  been,  for  the  most  part,  wholly  unconnected  ■\\dth, 
and  have  in  some  cases  been  directly  opposed  to,  theological 
interests. 

But  although  theological  influences  cannot  reasonably  be 
said  to  have  diminished  the  number  of  wars,  they  have  had  a 
very  real  and  beneficial  effect  in  diminishing  their  atrocity. 
On  few  subjects  have  the  moral  opinions  of  different  ages 
exhibited  so  marked  a  \  xriation  as  in  their  judgments  of 
what  punishment  may  justly  bo  im]>osed  on  a  conquered 
enemy,  and  these  variations  have  often  been  cited  as  an 
arsrumcnt  against  those  who  believe  in  the  existence  of 
natural  moral   perceptions.     To  those,  however,  -vVho  accept 


'  It  sofnis  curious  to  find  in  so  ut  in  bixrliaros  et  nioribus  aut  reli- 

rahn  and  unfanatical  a  -wriltr  as  <//"»(?  jirorsum  a  nobis  ahliorrontes.' 

Justus  Lipsius  tlio  follo-winf;  pas-  -VoUlicorum  sive  Cirilis  Doctritue 

sago:    'Jam    ct    invasio    ciua?dani  Wiri  (Taris,  1594),   hb.  iv.  ch.  ii. 

Icgitima  videtur  etiam  sine  injuria,  cap.  iv. 


256  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

bliat  doctrine,  with  the  limitations  that  have  heen  stated  in  thd 
first  chapter,  they  can  cause  no  pei'plexity.  In  the  fii'st  dawning 
of  the  human  intelligence  (as  I  have  said)  the  notion  of  duty, 
as  distinguished  from  that  of  interest,  appears,  and  the  mind, 
in  reA'iewing  the  vai-ious  emotions  by  which  it  is  influenced, 
recognises  the  unselfish  and  benevolent  motives  as  essentially 
and  generically  superior  to  the  selfish  and  the  cruel.  But  it 
is  the  general  condition  of  society  alone  that  determines  the 
standard  of  benevolence — the  classes  towards  which  every 
good  man  will  exercise  it.  At  first,  the  range  of  duty  is  the 
family,  the  tiibe,  the  state,  the  confederation.  Within  these 
limits  every  man  feels  himself  under  moral  obligations  to 
those  about  him ;  but  he  regards  the  outer  woi-ld  as  we 
regard  wild  animals,  as  beings  upon  whom  he  may  justifiably 
prey.  Hence,  we  may  explain  the  curious  fact  that  the  terms 
brigand  or  corsair  conveyed  in  the  early  stages  of  society  no 
notion  of  moral  guilt. ^  Such  men  wei-e  looked  upon  simply 
as  we  look  upon  huntsmen,  and  if  they  displayed  courage  and 
skill  in  their  pursuit,  they  were  doomed  tit  subjects  for 
admiration.  Even  in  the  writings  of  the  most  enlightened 
philosophers  of  Greece,  war  with  barbarians  is  represented  as 
a  form  of  chase,  and  the  simple  desire  of  obtaining  the  bar- 
barians as  slaves  was  considered  a  suflicient  reason  for  invad- 
ing them.     The  right  of  the  conqueror  to  kill  liis  ceptives 


'  '  Con  I'occasione  di  qtieste  cose  quel  che  fa  piu  maraviglia  h  cha 

Plutirco  ncl  Teseo  dice  che  gli  eroi  Platone  ed  Aristot.ile  posero  il  la- 

B\  recavano  a  grande  onore  e  si  re-  dronoccio  frallo  f^pezie  della  caccia 

putavano in pregio darmi con  I'esser  e  con  tali  o  tanti  filosofi  d'una gente 

chiamati  ladroni ;  siccome  a'  tempi  umanissinia  convengono  con  la  lore 

barbari  rilornati  quello  di  Corwile  barbaric  i  Guriiiani  aiitichi :  appo 

era    titolo    riputato    di    fcignoria  ;  i  qiiali  al  rcferire  di  Ct'saroi  ladro- 

d'inlorno  a' quali  tempi  venuto  So-  necci  non  solo  non  eran  infami,  ma 

lone,  si  dice  aver  permesso  nolle  si  tenovamtra  gli  esercizi  della virii 

uue  leggi  lo  eocieta  per  cagion  di  siccomo  tra  quelli  die  per  costumo 

prode ;    fcinto    Solone    ben    intese  non  applicamload  arte  alcuna  coei 

questa   nostra  compiuta  Umaiiita,  fiiggivano   1'   ozio.' — Vico,    Sckn^a 

Delia  quale  costoro  non  godono  del  ^'ui/va,  ii.  6.      See,  too,  Whowell'a 

diritto   natural  delle  genti        Jla  EUinents  of  Morality,  hookvx  ch.  ii. 


FaOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  2o7 

was  generally  recognised,  nor  was  it  at  fii-st  restricted  by  any 
considerations  of  age  or  sex.  Several  instances  are  recorded 
of  Greek  and  other  cities  being  deliberately  destroyed  by 
Greeks  or  by  Romans,  and  the  entii-e  populations  ruthlessly 
massacred.  1  The  whole  career  of  the  early  republic  of  Rome, 
though  much  idealised  and  transfigui-ed  by  later  historians, 
was  probably  governed  by  these  principles.^  The  normal 
fate  of  the  captive,  which,  among  barbarians,  had  been  de^th, 
was,  in  civilised  antiqmty,  slavery;  but  many  thousands 
were  condemned  to  the  gladiatorial  shows,  and  the  van- 
quished general  was  commonly  slain  in  the  Mamertine 
pi-ison,  while  his  conqueror  ascended  in  triumiA  to  the 
Capitol. 

A  few  traces  of  a  more  humane  spirit  may,  it  is  true,  be 
discovered.  Plato  had  advocated  the  liberation  of  all  Greek 
prisoners  upon  payment  of  a  fixed  ransom,^  and  the  Spartan 
general  Callicratidas  had  nobly  acted  upon  this  principle  ;■• 
but  his  example  never  appeai-s  to  have  been  generally  fol- 
lowed.    In  Rome,  the  notion  of  international  obligation  was 


'  The  ancient  right  of  war  is  cusa  les  vainqueurs  d'avoir  viole  le 

fully  discussed  by  Grotius,  De  Jure,  droit C'est  en  vertu  de  ce 

lib.  iii.     See,  especially,  the  horri-  droit   de  la  guerre  que   Rome  a 

ble  catalogue  of  tragedies  in  cap.  4.  ^tendu  la  solitude  autourd'elle  ;  du 

The  military  feeling  that  regards  territoire  ou  les  Volsques  avaient 

capture  as  disgraceful,  had  proba  vingt-trois  cites  elle  a  fait  les  marais 

bly  some,  though  only  a  very  sub-  pontins;  les   cinquante-trois   villos 

.ordinate,    influence    in    producing  du  Latium  ont  disparu ;    dans   le 

cruelty  to  the  prisoners.  Samnium  on  put  longtenips  recoii- 

*  'Le  jour  oti  Athenes  decreta  naitro  les  lieux  ou  les  armees  ro- 

que  tous  les  Mityleniens,  sans  dis-  mainos  avaient  passe,   moins  au\ 

tinction  de  sexe  ni  d'age,  seraient  vestiges   de   lenrs    camps    qu'a    la 

extermiues,  elle  ne  croyait  pas  de-  solitude  qui  regnait  aus  environs.' 

passer  soa  droit;  quand  le  leode-  — Fustel   de   Coulanges,    La    Cili 

main  elle  revint  sur  son  decret  et  antique,  pp.  263-264. 
60  contenta  de  mettre  a  mort  mille  *  Plato,  Ri'puhlic,\\\).\. ;  Bodin, 

citoyens  et  de  confisquer  toutes  les  Ripuhiique,  liv.  i.  cap.  5. 
tt^rres,  elle  se  crut  humaine  pt  in-  *  G'Kste,  Hist,  of  Greece, \o\.v\\\, 

dulgente.    Apres  la  prise  de  Platee  p.  224.     Agesilaus  was  also  verj 

les    hommes    furent    egorgcs,    les  humane   to.    captives.  —  Ibid,  pp 

^erames  vendues,  et  personne  n'ao-  36o-6. 


258  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

very  strong]y  felt.  No  war  was  considered  just  which  had 
not  l)een  officially  declared  ;  and  even  in  the  case  of  wai-s 
with  barbaiians,  the  Roman  historians  often  discuss  the  suffi- 
ciency or  insufficiency  of  the  motives,  with  a  conscientious 
severity  a  modem  historian  could  hardly  surpass.'  The  Inter 
Greek  and  Latin  writings  occasionally  contain  maxims  which 
exhibit  a  considerable  progress  in  this  sphere.  The  sole 
legitimate  object  of  war,  both  Cicero  and  Sallust  declared  to 
be  an  assured  peace.  That  war,  according  to  Tacitus,  ends 
well  which  ends  \vith  a  pardon.  Pliny  refused  to  apply  the 
epithet  great  to  Cresar,  on  account  of  the  torrents  of  human 
blood  he  had  shed.  Two  Roman  conquerors^  are  credited 
with  the  saying  that  it  is  better  to  save  the  life  of  one  citizen 
than  to  destroy  a  thousand  enemies,  Marcus  Aurelius  mourn- 
fully assimilated  the  career  of  a  conqueror  to  that  of  a  simple 
robber.  Nations  or  armies  which  voluntaii'y  submitted  to 
Rome  were  habitually  treated  with  great  leniency,  and 
numerous  acts  of  individual  magnanimity  are  recorded.  The 
violation  of  the  chastity  of  conquered  women  by  soldiers  in 
a  siege  was  denounced  as  a  rare  and  atrocious  crime.'  The 
extreme  atrocities  of  ancient  war  appear  at  last  to  have  been 
practically,  though  not  legally,  restricted  to  two  classes.'* 
Cities  where  Roman  ambassadors  had  been  insulted,  or 
where  some  special  act  of  ill  faith  or  cruelty  had  taken  place, 
were  razed  to  the  gi-ound,  and  their  poptilations  massacred  or 
delivered  into  slavei-y.  Barborian  prisoners  were  regarded 
almost  as  wild  beasts,  and  sent  in  thousands  to  fill  the  slave 
market  or  to  combat  in  the  arena. 


'  Tliis    .ippcars   continually  in  OJficiis   BvUicis   (Antwerp,    1597), 

Livy,  l)Ut  most  of  all,  I  think,  in  Cirotius,  De  Jure.  It  i.s  reniarkable 

tlio  Gaulish  historian,  Flonis.  that  both  Ayala  and  Grotius  base 

*  fcjcipio  and  Trajan.  their    attempts    to    mitigate    the 

*  See  some  very  remarkable  severity  of  war  chiefly  upon  thd 
passacos  in  GDtius.  De  Jure  Bell.  ■writintfsandexamplesofthePagans. 
lib.  iii.  cap.  4,  §  19.  The  limits  of  thcright  of  conquerors 

*  These  mitigations  arf  fully  andtheju^^t  ciuses  of  war  arodis- 
BH'ime.ratcd  by  .Ayala,   De  Jure  et  cussed  by  Cicero,  De  Offic.  lib.  i. 


FROM    CttXSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE. 


259 


Tlic  changes  Christianity  effecteil  in  the  rights  of  war 
were  very  important,  and  they  may,  I  think,  be  comprised 
under  three  heads.  In  the  first  place,  it  suppressed  the 
gladiatorial  shows,  and  thereby  saved  thousands  of  captives 
from  a  bloody  death.  In  the  next  place,  it  steadily  discou- 
raged the  pi-actice  of  enslaving  prisoners,  ransomed  immense 
multitudes  with  charitable  contributions,  and  by  slow  and 
insensible  gi-adations  proceeded  on  its  path  of  mercy  till  it 
liecame  a  recognised  principle  of  international  law,  that  no 
Christian  prisoners  should  lie  reduced  to  slavery.'  In  the 
third  place,  it  had  a  more  indu-ect  but  very  powerful  influ- 
ence by  the  creation  of  a  new  wai'like  ideal.  The  ideal 
kniyiht  of  the  Crusades  and  of  chivalrv,  uniting  all. the  force 
and  fire  of  the  ancient  warrior,  with  something  of  the  tender- 
ness and  humility  of  the  Christian  saint,  sprang  from  the 
conjunction  of  the  two  streams  of  religious  and  of  militaiy 


'  In  England  the  change  seems 
to  have  immediately  followed  con- 
version. 'The  evangelical  precepts 
of  peace  and  love,'  says  a  very 
learned  historian,  '  did  not  put  an 
end  to  war,  they  did  not  put  an  end 
to  aguressive  conquests,  but  they 
distinctly  humanised  the  way  in 
which  war  was  carried  on.  I'rom 
tliis  time  forth  the  never-ending 
wars  with  the  Welsh  cease  to  be 
wars  of  extermination.  The 
heathen  English  had  been  satisfied 
with  nothing  short  of  the  destruc- 
tionand  expulsion  of  their  enemies; 
the  Christian  English  thought  it 
enough  to  reduce  them  to  political 
^uiljection.  .  ,  .  The  Christian 
We  sh  could  now  sit  down  as  sub- 
jects of  the  Ciiristian  Saxon.  The 
Welshman  was  acknowledged  as  a 
man  and  a  citizen,  and  was  put 
nnlcr  the  protection  of  the  law.' — 
Proeman's    Hist,   of  the   Norman 


Conquest,  vol.  i.  pp.  33-34.  Chris- 
tians who  assisted  infidtls  in  wars 
were  ipso  facto  excommunicated, 
and  might  therefore  bo  enslaved, 
but  all  others  were  free  from  sla- 
very. 'Et  quidem  inter  Chris- 
tianos  laudabili  et  anfiqua  consue- 
tudine  introtluctum  est,  lit  capti 
hinc  inde,  utcunquo  justo  bello,  non 
fierentservi,  sed  liberi  servarentur 
donee  solvant  precium  redemptio- 
nis.' — Ayala,  lib.  i.  cap.  5.  'This 
rule,  at  least,'  says  Grotius, 
'  (though  but  a  small  matter)  the 
reverence  for  the  Christian  law 
has  enforced,  which  Socrates  vainly 
sought  to  have  established  among 
the  Greeks.'  Tiie  Mohammedans 
also  made  it  a  rule  not  to  enslave 
their  co-religionists. — Grotius,  Di 
Jure,  iii.  7.  §  9.  Pagan  and  bar- 
barian prisoners  Mere,  however, 
soM  as  slaves  (especially  by  the 
Spaniards)  till  very  re<r«ntly. 


2()0  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MOiiAI.S. 

feeling ;  and  although;  this  ideal,  like  all  others,  was  a  crea- 
tion of  the  imagination  not  often  perfectly  realised  in 
life,  yet  it  remaiaed  the  type  and  model  of  warlike  excel- 
lence, to  which  many  generations  aspired ;  and  its  softening 
influence  may  even  now  be  largely  traced  in  the  charac^^er  of 
the  modern  gentleman. 

Together  with  the  gi-adual  fusion  of  the  military  spirit 
with  Christianity,  we  may  dimly  descry,  in  the  period  before 
Charlemagne,  the  first  stages  of  that  consecration  of  secular 
rank  which  at  a  later  period,  in  the  forms  of  cldvalry,  the 
divine  right  of  kings,  and  the  reverence  for  aristocracies, 
played  so  large  a  part  both  in  moral  and  in  political  history. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  course  of  events  in  the 
Roman  Empire  had  been  towards  the  continual  aggrandise- 
ment of  the  imperial  power.  The  representative  despotism 
of  Augustus  was  at  last  succeeded  by  the  oriental  despotism 
of  Diocletian.  The  senate  sank  into  a  powerless  assembly  of 
imperial  nominees,  and  the  spirit  of  Roman  freedom  wholly 
perished  with  the  extinction  of  Stoicism. 

It  would  probably  be  a  needless  refinement  to  seek  any 
deeper  causes  fur  this  change  than  may  be  foimd  in  the  ordi- 
nary principles  of  human  nature.  Desjjotism  is  the  norm;il 
and  legitimate  government  of  an  early  society  in  which 
knowledge  has  not  yet  de'veloped  tlie  powers  of  the  people  ; 
but  when  it  is  introduced  into  a  civilised  community,  it  is  of 
the  nature  of  a  disease,  and  a  disease  which,  unless  it  be 
checked,  has  a  continual  tendency  to  spread.  When  free 
nations  abdicate  their  political  functions,  they  gradually  lose 
both  the  capacity  and  the  desire  for  freedom.  Political  talent 
and  amVjition,  having  no  sphere  for  action,  steadily  decay, 
and  servile,  eneii'ating,  and  vicious  habits  proportionately 
increase.  Nations  are  organic  beings  in  a  constant  process 
of  expansion  or  decay,  and  where  they  do  not  exhibit  a  pro- 
gress of  liberty  they  usually  exhibit  a  progress  of  servitude. 

Tt  can  hardlv  be  as.'^erted  that  Christianity  had  much  m 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  261 

riuenoe  upon  this  change.  Bj  accelerating  in  some  degree 
that  withdrawal  of  the  virtuous  energies  of  the  people  from 
the  sphere  of  government  which  liad  long  been  in  process,  it 
prevented  the  great  improvement  of  morals,  which  it  un- 
doubtedly effected,  from  appearing  perceptibly  in  public 
affairs.  It  taught  a  doctrine  of  passive  obedience,  which  its 
disciples  nobly  observed  in  the  worst  periods  of  persecution. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Christians  emphatically  lepudiated 
the  ascription  of  Divine  honours  to  the  sovereign,  and  they 
asserted  with  heroic  constancy  their  independent  worship,  in 
defiance  of  the  law.  After  the  time  of  Constantine,  however, 
their  zeal  became  far  less  pure,  and  sectarian  interests  wholly 
governed  tlieir  principles.  JNIuch  misapplied  learning  has 
been  employed  in  endeavouring  to  extract  from  the  Fathei-s 
a  consistent  doctiine  concerning  the  relations  of  subjects 
to  tlieir  sovereigns ;  but  every  impartial  observer  may 
discover  that  the  principle  upon  whicb  they  acted  was  ex- 
ceedingly simple.  When  a  sovereign  was  sufficiently  or- 
thodox in  his  opinions,  and  sufficiently  zealous  in  patronising 
the  Church  and  in  persecuting  the  heretics,  he  was  extolled 
as  an  angel.  When  his  policy  was  opposed  to  the  Chiu-ch, 
he  was  represented  as  a  dsemon.  The  estimate  which  Gregory 
of  Tours  has  given  of  the  character  of  Clovis,  though  far 
more  frank,  is  not  a  more  strildng  instance  of  moral  perver- 
sion than  the  fulsome  and  indeed  blasphemous  adulation 
which  Eusebius  poured  upon  Constantine — a  sovereign  whose 
character  was  at  all  times  of  the  most  mingled  description, 
and  who,  shortly  after  his  conversion,  put  to  a  violent  death 
his  son,  his  nephew,  and  his  wife.  If  we  were  to  estimate 
the  attitude  of  ecclesiastics  to  sovereigns  by  the  language  of 
Eusebius,  we  should  suppose  that  they  ascribed  to  them  a 
direct  Divine  inspiration,  and  exalted  the  Imperial  dignity 
to  an  extent  that  was  before  unknown.'     But  when  Julian 


'  The  character  of  Constantine,     Lectures  oji    the    Eastern    Church 
and  the  estimate  of  it  in  Eusebius,     (Lcct.  vi.). 
are  well  treated  by  Dean  Stanley. 

49 


262  IIISTOKT    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

mounted  the  throne,  the  whole  aspect  of  the  Church  was 
changed.  This  gi-eat  and  virtuous,  though  misguided  sove- 
reign, whose  private  life  was  a  model  of  purity,  who  carried 
to  the  throne  the  manners,  tastes,  and  friendships  of  a  philo- 
sophic life,  and  who  proclaimed  and,  with  very  slight  excep- 
tions, acted  with  the  largest  and  most  generous  toleration, 
was  an  enemy  of  the  Church,  and  all  the  vocabulaiy  of  in- 
vective was  in  consequence  habitually  lavished  upon  him. 
Ecclesiastics  and  laymen  combined  in  insulting  him,  and 
when,  after  a  brief  but  glorious  reign  of  less  than  two  years, 
he  met  an  honourable  death  on  the  battle-field,  neither  the 
disaster  that  had  befallen  the  Roman  arms,  nor  the  present 
dangers  of  the  army,  nor  the  heroic  courage  which  the  fallen 
emperor  had  displayed,  nor  the  majestic  tranquillity  of  his 
end,  nor  the  tears  of  his  faithful  friends,  could  shame  the 
Christian  community  into  the  decency  of  silence.  A  peal  of 
brutal  merriment  filled  the  land.  In  Antioch  the  Christians 
assembled  in  the  theatres  and  in  the  churches,  to  celebrate 
with  rejoicing  the  death  which  their  emperor  had  met  in 
fighting  against  the  enemies  of  his  country.*  A  crowd  of 
vindictive  legends  expressed  the  exultation  of  the  Church,^ 
and  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen  devoted  his  eloquence  to  immor- 
talising it.  His  brother  had  at  one  time  been  a  high  official 
in  the  Empire,  and  had  fearlessly  owned  his  Christianity 
under  Julian ;  but  that  emperor  not  only  did  not  remove 
him  fiom  his  post,  but  even  honoured  him  witli  his  warm 
friendship.^  The  body  of  Julian  had  been  laid  but  a  short 
time  in  the  gi-ave,  when  St.  Gregory  delivered  two  fierce 
invectives  against  his  memory,  collected  the  grotesque 
calumnies  that  had  been  heaped  upon  his  cliaractcr,  ex- 
[n-essod  a  regret  that  his  remains  had  not  been  flung  after 
death  into  the  common  sewer,  and  regaled  the  hearers  by  an 


'  Tlieodoret,  iii.  28.  2""  partio. 

'  Thoy   aro  collected   by    Cha-  '  Heo  St.  Gregory's  orati  an    /n 

'.eHuliriand,  Kludes  bisl.  2™  disc.     Cesairius. 


FUOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  263 

emphatic  assertion  of  the  tortures  that  were  awaiting  him  in 
hell.  Among  the  Pagans  a  charge  of  the  gravest  kind  was 
brought  against  the  Christians.  It  was  said  that  Julian  died 
by  the  spear,  not  of  an  enemy,  but  of  one  of  his  own  Christian 
soldiers.  When  we  remember  that  he  was  at  once  an  em- 
peror and  a  general,  that  he  fell  when  bravely  and  confidently 
leading  his  army  in  the  field,  and  in  the  critical  moment  of  a 
battle  on  which  the  fortunes  of  the  Empire  largely  depended, 
this  charge,  which  Libanius  has  made,  appears  to  involve  as 
large  an  amoimt  of  base  treacheiy  as  any  that  can  be  con- 
ceived. It  was  probably  a  perfectly  groundless  calumny ; 
but  the  manner  in  which  it  was  regarded  amonj;  the 
Cliristians  is  singularly  characteristic.  '  Libanius,'  says 
one  of  the  ecclesiastical  historians,  '  clearly  states  that 
the  emperor  fell  by  the  hand  of  a  Christian ;  and  this,  pro- 
bably, was  the  truth.  It  h  not  unlikely  that  some  of  the 
soldiers  who  then  served  in  the  Roman  army  might  have 
conceived  the  idea  of  acting  like  the  ancient  slayers  of 
tyrants  who  exposed  themselves  to  death  in  the  cause  of 
liberty,  and  fought  in  defence  of  their  country,  their  families, 
and  their  friends,  and  whose  names  are  held  in  universal 
admiration.  Still  less  is  he  deserving  of  blame  who,  for  the 
sake  of  God  and  of  religion,  performed  so  bold  a  deed.' ' 

It  may  be  asserted,  I  think,  without  exaggeration,  that 
the  complete  subordination  of  all  other  principles  to  their 
theological  interests,  which  characterised  the  ecclesiastics 
under  Julian,  continued  for  many  centuries.  No  language 
of  invective  was  too  extreme  to  bo  applied  to  a  sovereign 
who  opposed  their  interests.  Ko  language  of  adulation  was  too 
extravagant  for  a  sovereign  who  sustained  them.  Of  all  the 
emperors  who  disgraced  the  throne  of  Constantinople,  the 
most  odious  and  ferocious  was  probably  Phocas.  An  obscure 
centurion,  he  rose  by  a  military  revolt  to  the  supreme  jwwer, 


'  Sozomen,  vi.  2. 


264  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

and  the  Emperor  Maurice,  with  his  family,  fell  into  his  hands. 
He  resolved  to  put  the  captive  emperor  to  death ;  but,  first  of 
all,  he  ordered  his  five  children  to  be  brought  out  and  to 
be  successively  murdered  before  the  eyes  of  their  father,  who 
bore  the  awful  sight  with  a  fine  mixture  of  antique  heroism 
and  of  Chi-istian  piety,  murmm-ing,  as  each  cliild  fell  beneath 
the  knife  of  the  assassin,  '  Thou  art  just,  0  Lord,  and 
righteous  are  Thy  judgments,'  and  even  inteiiwsing,  at  the 
last  moment,  to  reveal  the  heroic  fraud  of  the  nurse  who 
desii-ed  to  save  his  youngest  child  by  substituting  for  it  her 
own.  But  JNIaurice — who  had  been  a  weak  and  avaricious 
rather  than  a  vicious  sovereign — had  shown  himself  jealous 
of  the  influence  of  the  Pope,  had  forbidden  the  soldiers, 
during  the  extreme  danger  of  their  country,  deserting  their 
colours  to  enrol  themselves  as  monks,  and  had  even  encour- 
aged the  pretensions  of  the  Ai'chbishop  of  Coustantinople  to 
the  title  of  Universal  Bishop  ;  and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  Roman 
priests,  the  recollection  of  these  ciimes  was  sufficient  to 
excuse  the  most  brutal  of  murders.  In  two  letters,  full  of 
passages  from  Scripture,  and  replete  Avith  fulsome  and 
blasphemous  flattery,  the  Pope,  St.  Gregory  the  Great,  wrote 
to  congi-atulate  Phucas  and  his  wife  upon  their  ti-iumph ;  he 
called  heaven  and  earth  to  rejoice  over  them ;  he  placed  their 
images  to  be  venerated  in  the  Latei-an,  and  he  adroitly  insinu- 
ated that  it  was  impossible  that,  with  their  well-known  piety, 
they  could  fad  to  be  very  favourable  to  the  See  of  Peter.* 

The  course  of  events  in  relation  to  the  monarchical  powei 
was  for  some  time  different  in  the  East  and  the  West. 
Constantine  had  himself  assumed  more  of   the    pomp   and 


'  J?/),  xiii.31-39.   In  tho  second  Vestni    Tninquillitas     specialiter 

of  these  leUers  (which  is  addressed  commcndatani.     Sod  qui   scio  quia 

to  Leontia),  he  says:  *  Rogaro  fo-  omnipotent  em  Deum  diligitis,  non 

ftitan   dcbui    ut    ecclesiam    bea  i  debeo  potere  quod  sponteex  beni^- 

Petri    apostoli   quaj    nunc    usque  nitate  vestrae  piutatis  eihibetis.' 
gravibus  inaidiis  laboravit,  haberet 


FROM    CO^'STA^'TI^■E    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  265 

manner  of  an  oriental  sovereign  tban  any  precoxUxig  emperor, 
and  the  court  of  Constantinople  was  soon  cLaracterised  by  an 
extravagance  of  magnificence  on  the  part  of  the  monarch,  and 
of  adulation  on  the  part  of  the  subjects,  which  has  prol)abIy 
never  been  exceeded.  •  The  imperial  power  in  tlie  East 
overshadowed  the  ecclesiastical,  and  the  priests,  not^vith• 
standing  their  fierce  outbreak  diu'ing  the  iconoclastic 
controversy,  and  a  few  minor  paroxysms  of  revolt,  gradually 
sank  into  that  contented  subservience  which  has  usually 
characterised  the  Eastern  Church.  In  the  West,  however, 
the  Eoman  bishops  were  in  a  gi-eat  degiee  independent  of  the 
sovereigns,  and  in  some  degree  opposed  to  their  interests. 
The  transfer  of  the  imperial  power  to  Constantiaople,  by 
leaving  the  Eoman  bishops  the  chief  personages  in  a  city 
which  long  association  as  well  as  actual  power  rendered  the 
foremost  in  the  world,  was  one  of  the  gi-eat  causes  of  the 
aggrandisement  of  the  Papacy  and  the  Arianism  of  many 
sovereigns,  the  jealousy  which  others  exhibited  of  ecclesias- 
tical encroachments,  and  the  lukewarmness  of  a  few  in 
persecuting  heretics,  were  all  causes  of  dissension.  On  the 
severance  of  the  Empire,  the  Western  Church  came  in  contact 
with  rulers  of  another  type.  The  baibarian  kings  were 
little  more  than  military  chiefs,  elected  for  the  most  part  by 
the  people,  surrounded  by  little  or  no  special  sanctity,  and 
maintaining  theii*  precarious  and  very  restricted  authority  by 
their  courage  or  their  skill.  A  few  feebly  imitated  the  pomp 
of  the  Roman  emperors,  but  their  cliiims  had  no  great 
weight  with  the  world.  The  aureole  wldch  the  genius  of 
Theodoric  cast  around  Ids  throne  passed  away  upon  his  death, 
and  the  Arianism  of  that  great  sovereign  suthciently  debarred 
him  from  the  sympathies  of  the  Church.  lu  Caul,  under  a 
few  bold  and  unscrupulous  men,  the  ]\Ieroviu£jian  d\Tvasty 
emerged  from  a  host  of  petty  kings,  and  coasoii dated  the 


See  tlie  graphic  description  in  Gibbon,  ch  !i'i 


266  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

whole  country  into  one  kingdom ;  but  after  a-  short  period  it 
degenex^ated,  the  kings  became  mere  puppets  in  tlie  hands  of 
the  mayors  of  the  palace,  and  these  latter,  whose  office 
hud  become  hereditary,  who  were  the  chiefs  of  the  great 
landed  proprietors,  and  who  had  acquired  by  their  position 
a  personal  ascendancy  over  Ihe  sovereigns,  became  the 
vii'tual  rulers  of  the  nation. 

It  was  out  of  these  somewhat  unpromising  conditions 
that  the  mediaeval  doctrme  of  the  Divine  risrht  of  kinss,  and 
the  general  reverence  for  rank,  that  formed  the  essence  of 
chivalry,  were  slowly  evolved.  Political  and  moral  causes 
conspired  in  producing  them.  The  cliief  political  causes — 
which  are  well  known — may  be  summed  up  in  a  few  words. 

When  Leo  the  Isaurian  attempted,  in  the  eighth  centiu'y, 
to  repress  the  worship  of  images,  the  resistance  which  he  met 
at  Constantinojjle,  though  violent,  was  speedily  allayed  ;  but 
the  Pope,  assuming  a  far  higher  position  than  any  Byzantine 
ecclesiastic  could  attain,  boldly  excommunicated  the  emperor, 
and  led  a  revolt  against  his  authority,  which  resulted  in  the 
virtual  independence  of  Italy.  His  position  was  at  this  time 
singularly  grand.  He  represented  a  religious  cause  to  which 
the  great  ma.ss  of  the  Christian  world  were  passionately 
attached.  He  was  venerated  as  the  emancipator  of  Italy. 
He  exhibited  in  the  hour  of  his  triumph  a  modei'ation 
which  conciliated  many  enemies,  and  prevented  the  anarchy 
that  might  naturally  have  been  exjiected.  He  presided,  at 
the  same  time,  over  a  vast  monastic  organisation,  which 
ramified  over  all  Cliristendom,  propagated  his  authority 
among  many  barbarous  nations,  and,  by  its  special  attjichment 
to  the  Papjxcy,  as  distinguished  from  the  Episcopacy,  contri- 
buted very  much  to  transform  Christianity  into  a  si)iritual 
despotism.  One  gi-eat  danger,  however,  still  nieiiiiced  hia 
power.  The  barbarous  Lombards  were  continually  invading 
his  territory,  and  threatening  the  independence  of  Rome. 
The  Lombard  monarch,  Luitprand,  hafl  quailed  in  the  vfry 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  267 

hoiu-  of  liis  triumph  before  the  menace  of  eternal  torture; 
but  his  successor,  Astolphus,  was  proof  against  every  fear, 
and  it  seemed  as  though  the  Papal  city  must  have  inevitably 
succumbed  before  his  arms. 

In  their  complete  military  impotence,  the  Popes  looked 
abroad  for  some  foreign  succour,  and  they  naturally  tm-ned 
to  the  Franks,  whose  martial  tastes  and  triumphs  were 
iiuiversiilly  renowned.  Chai-les  Martel,  though  simply  a 
mayor  of  the  palace,  had  saved  Europe  from  the  Mohamme- 
dans, and  the  Pope  expected  that  he  woidd  unsheath  his 
swoi-d  for  the  defence  of  the  Vatican.  Charles,  however,  was 
dea,f  to  all  entreaties  ;  and,  although  he  had  done  more  than 
any  ruler  siuce  Constantine  for  the  Church,  his  attention 
seems  to  have  been  engrossed  by  the  interests  of  his  own 
country,  and  ho  was  miich  alienated  from  the  sympathies  of 
the  clergy.  An  ancient  legend  tells  how  a  saint  saw  his  soul 
carried  by  demons  into  hell,  because  he  had  secularised 
Church  property,  and  a  more  modern  histoi-ian'  has  ascribed 
h's  death  to  his  having  hesitated  to  defend  the  Pope.  Ilis 
son,  Pf;pin,  however,  actuated  probably  in  different  degrees 
by  personal  ambition,  a  desire  for  military  adventure,  and 
religious  zeal,  listened  i-eadily  to  the  prayer  of  the  Pope,  and 
a  compact  was  entered  into  between  the  parties,  which  proved 
one  of  the  most  important  events  in  history.  Pepin  agreed 
to  secure  the  Pope  from  the  danger  by  which  he  was 
threatened.  The  Pope  agreed  to  give  his  religious  sanction 
to  the  ambition  of  Pepin,  who  designed  to  depose  the 
Mero\-ingian  dynasty,  and  to  become  in  name,  as  he  was 
already  in  fact,  the  sovereign  of  Gaul. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  recount  at  length  the  detail.': 
of  these  negotiations,  which  are  described  by  many  historians. 
It  is  sufficient  to  say,  that  the  compact  was  religious!)- 
tljaerved.     Pepin  made  two  expeditions  to  Italy,  and  cojii 


'  Baronius. 


268  HisTonr  of  European  mohals. 

pletely  shattered  the  power  of  the  Lombards,  wresting  from 
them  the  rich  exarchate  of  Ravenna,  which  he  ceded  to  the 
Pope,  who  still  retained  his  nominal  allegiance  to  the 
Byzantine  emperor,  but  who  became,  by  this  donation,  for 
the  fii-st  time  avowedly  an  independent  temporal  prince. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  deposition  of  Childeric  was  2>eaceably 
effected ;  the  last  of  the  Merovingians  was  immured  in  a 
monastery,  and  the  Carlovingian  dynasty  ascended  the  throne 
under  the  special  benediction  of  the  Pope,  who  performed  on 
the  occasion  the  ceremony  of  conseci-ation,  which  had  not 
previously  been  in  geneial  use,'  placed  the  crown  with  his 
own  hands  on  the  head  of  Pepin,  and  delivered  a  solemn 
anathema  against  all  who  should  rebel  against  the  new  king 
or  against  his  successors. 

The  extreme  importance  of  these  events  was  i)robably  not 
fully  realised  by  any  of  the  parties  concerned  in  them.  It 
was  evident,  indeed,  that  the  Pope  had  been  freed  fi'om  a 
pressing  danger,  and  had  acquii-ed  a  great  accession  of 
temporal  powei",  and  also  that  a  new  dynasty  had  arisen  in 
Gaul  under  circumstances  that  were  singularly  favourable 
and  imposing.  But,  much  more  important  than  these  facts 
was  the  permanent  consecration  of  the  royal  authority  that 
had  been  effected.  The  Pope  had  successfully  assei-ted  his 
power  of  de]X)sing  and  elevating  kings,  and  had  thus  acquired 
a  position  which  influenced  the  whole  subsequent  course  of 
European  history.  The  monarch,  if  he  had  l:)ecome  in  some 
degree  subservient  to  the  pritist,  had  become  in  a  great 
degi'oe  independent  of  his  peoi)le ;  the  Divine  origin  of  his 
power  was  regarded  as  a  dogma  of  religion,  and  a  sanctity 
surrounded  him  which  immeasural^ly  aggrandised  his  power. 
The  ascription,  by  the  Pagans,  of  divinity  to  kings  had  had 
no  'ipprociable  effect  in  increasing  their  authority  or  I'cstrain- 
ing  the  limits  of  criticism  or  of  rebellion.     The  siscription  of 


•  M.il>ly,  ii.  1  ;  Gibbon,  eh.  xHx. 


IIIOM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHAHLEMAGiNE.  269 

a  Dh'ine  right  to  kmga,  independent  of  the  wishes  of  the 
people,  has  been  one  of  the  most  enduring  and  most  potent  of 
superstitions,  and  it  has  ev^en  now  not  wholly  vanished  from 
the  world.' 

Mere  isolated  political  events  have,  however,  rarely  oi 
never  this  profound  influence,  unless  they  have  been  preced(;d 
and  prepai'ed  by  other  agencies.  The  fii'st  i)redi9posiiig 
cause  of  the  ready  recejition  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
character  of  authority,  may  probably  be  found  in  the  pro- 
minence of  the  monastic  system.  I  have  already  observed 
that  this  system  represents  in  its  extreme  form  that  exalt- 
ation of  tlie  vii-tues  of  humility  and  of  obedience  which 
so  broadly  distinguishes  the  Christian  fi-om  the  Pagan  type 
of  excellence.  I  have  also  noticed  that,  owing  to  the  con- 
currence of  many  causes,  it  had  acquired  such  dimensions 
and  influence  as  to  suj^ply  the  guiding  ideal  of  the  Christian 
world.  Controlling  or  monopolising  all  education  and 
iitei*atm-e,  furnishing  most  of  the  .legislators  and  many  of  the 
statesmen  of  the  age,  attracting  to  themselves  all  moral 
enthusiasm  and  most  intellectual  ability,  the  monks  soon  left 
their  impress  on  the  character  of  nations.  Habits  oi 
obedience  and  dispositions  of  humility  were  diflfused,  revered, 
and  idealised,  and  a  Ghuj'ch  which  rested  mainly  on  tradition 
fostered  a  deep  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  antiquity,  and  a 
natural  disposition  to  observe  traditional  customs.     In  this 


'  There  are  some  good  remarks  thee  thou  listencst  to  us ;  but  if  it 

upon  the  way  in  which,  among  the  please  thee  not,  who  is  to  condemn 

free  Franks,  tlie  bishops  taught  the  thee  save  He  who  has  proclaimed 

duty    of    passive     obcdit-uce,    in  Himself     Justice.'  —  Greg.    Tur. 

Mably,     Ohs.     sur     I'Hisioire    de  v.     19.       On     tiie     other     hand, 

France',  livrei.  ch.  iii.     Gregory  of  Hincmar,   A^chlli^shop  of  Rheim.s, 

Tours,  in  his  address  to  Chilperie,  strongly  asserted  the  obligation  oi 

had  said:  'If  any  of  us,  0  king  kings  to  observe  tiio  law,  iind  dn- 

transgress  the   boundaries  of  jus-  nouncod  as  diabolical  the  doctrir.e 

rice,  thou  art  at  hand   to   correct  th;it  they  are  subject   to  none  but 

us;  but  if  thou   shouldest  exceed  God.     (Allen.    On   (he  Royal  Vrr 

thfm,  who   is   to  condemn  thee?  r.i^rt)'/i'e(1849),  pp.  171-172.) 
We  address  thee,  .ind  if  it  please 


270  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS, 

manner  a  tone  of  feeling  was  gradually  formed  that  assimi' 
lated  with  the  lAonarchical  and  aristocratical  institutions  of 
feudalism,  which  flourished  chiefly  because  they  corresponded 
with  the  moral  feelings  of  the  time. 

In  the  next  place,  a  series  of  social  and  political  causes 
diminished  the  personal  independence  for  which   the    bar- 
barians had  been  noted.     The  king  had  at  first  been,  not  the 
sovereign  of  a  country,  but  the  chief  of  a  tribe. ^     Gradually, 
however,  with  more  settled  habits,  the  sovereignty  assumed  a 
territorial  character,  and  we  may  soon  discover  the  rudiments 
of  a  territorial  aristocracy.     The  kings  gave  their  leading 
chiefs  portions  of  conquered  land  or  of  the  royal  domains, 
under  the  name   of  benefices.     The  obligation  of  uiilitaiy 
service  was  attached  to  these  benefices,  and  by  slovv  and 
perhaps  insensible  stages,  each  of  which  has  been  the  subject 
of    fierce    controversy,    they   were    made    ii-revocable,   and 
ultimately  hereditary.     While  society  was  still  disorgani.sed, 
small  landlords  pui-chased  the  protection  of  the  Church,  or  of 
some  important  chief,  by  surrendering  theu*  estates,  which 
they  received  back  as  tenants,  subject  to  the  condition  of  tlie 
payment  of  rent,  or  of  military  service.     Others,   without 
making  such  surrender,  placed  themselves  under  the  care  of 
a  neighbouring  lord,  and  ofiered,  in  return,  homage  or   mili- 
tary aid.     At  the  same  time,  through  causes  to  which  I  have 
already  adverted,  the  free  peasants  for  the  most  part  sank 
into  serfs,  suV)joct  to  and  protected   l)y  the  landowners,     lu 
this  manner  a  hierarchy  of  ranks  was  gradually  formed,  of 
which    the  sovereign  was  the  apex  and  the  serf  the  basis. 
The  complete  legal  organisation  of  this  hierarchy  belongs  to 


'  Tlic  exact  degree  of  thoaiitiio-  I' flisf.  de  France  {\et.  9),  Guizd'a 

rity  of  the  barbarian  kings,  and  I  lie  Hist,    de   la    Civilisation;    Mahly, 

different    8taj,'e3    by    -wliich    their  Ohscr v. sur  V Hist,  de  France;  !•  red' 

poM'cr  was  increased,  are  matters  man's  ///.s7.   of  the  Norman   Von' 

of  great  controversy.     The  readir  quest,  voL\, 
may   consult  Thierry's  Lc'irr^i  fr,ir 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  271 

the  jjeriod  of  feudalism,  wliicb  is  not  within  the  scope  of  the 
present  vohime  ;  but  the  chief  elements  of  feudalism  existed 
before  Charlemagne,  and  the  moral  results  flowing  from  them 
may  be  already  discerned.  Each  rank,  except  the  very 
highest,  was  continually  brought  into  contact  with  a  superior, 
and  a  feeling  of  constant  dependence  and  subordination  wag 
accordingly  fostered.  To  the  serf,  who  depended  for  Jill 
things  upon  the  neighbouring  noble,  to  the  noble,  who  held 
all  his  dignities  on  the  condition  of  frequent  military  serAdce 
under  his  sovereign,  the  idea  of  secular  rank  became  indis- 
solubly  connected  with  that  of  supreme  greatness. 

It  will  appear  evident,  from  the  foregoing  observations, 
that  in  the  period  before  Charlemagne  the  moral  and  poli- 
tical causes  were  already  in  action,  which  at  a  much  later 
period  produced  the  organisation  of  chivalry — an  organisa- 
tion which  was  founded  on  the  combination  and  the  glorifi- 
cation of  secular  rank  and  military  pi-owess.  But,  in  order 
that  the  tendencies  I  have  described  should  acquire  their  full 
force,  it  was  necessaiy  that  they  should  be  represented  or 
illustrated  in  some  great  personage,  who,  by  the  splendour 
and  the  beauty  of  his  career,  could  fascinate  the  imaginations 
of  men.  It  is  muc;h  easier  to  govern  great  masses  of  men 
through  their  imagination  than  through  their  reason.  Moral 
principles  rarely  act  powerfully  upon  the  world,  except  by 
way  of  example  or  ideals.  When  the  course  of  events  haa 
been  to  glorify  the  ascetic  or  monarchical  or  military  spirit,  a 
gi'eat  saint,  or  sovereign,  or  soldier  will  aiise,  who  will  con- 
centrate in  one  dazzling  focus  the  blind  tendencies  of  his 
time,  kindle  the  enthusiasm  and  fascinate  the  imagination  of 
the  people.  But  for  the  prevailing  tendency,  the  great  man 
would  not  have  arisen,  or  would  not  have  exercised  his  great 
influence.  But  for  the  great  man,  whose  career  appealed 
vividly  to  the  imagination,  the  prevailing  tendency  would 
naver  have  acquired  its  full  intensity. 

Tills   typical    figure    appeared    in    Charlemagne,    whose 


272  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

colossal  form  towers  with  a  majestic  gi-andeur  both  in  history 
and  in  romance.  Of  all  the  great  rulers  of  men,  there  has 
probably  been  no  other  who  was  so  truly  many-sided,  whose 
influence  pervaded  so  completely  all  the  religious,  intellectual, 
and  political  modes  of  thought  existing  in  his  time.  Kising 
in.  one  of  the  darkest  periods  of  European  history,  this  great 
emperor  resuscitated,  with  a  brief  but  dazzling  splendour,  the 
faded  glories  of  the  Empire  of  the  West,  conducted,  for  the 
most  part  in  person,  numerous  expeditions  against  the  bar- 
barous nations  around  him,  promulgated  a  vast  system  of 
legislation,  reformed  the  discipline  of  every  order  of  the 
Church,  and  reduced  all  classes  of  the  clergy  to  subservience 
to  his  will,  wliile,  by  legalising  tithes,  he  greatly  increased 
their  material  pi'osperity.  He  at  the  same  time  contributed, 
in  a  measiu-e,  to  check  the  intellectual  decadence  by  founding 
schools  and  libraries,  and  drawing  around  him  all  the  scat- 
tered learning  of  Eui-ope.  He  reformed  the  coinage,  extended 
commerce,  influenced  religious  controversies,  and  convoked 
great  legislative  assemblies,  which  ultimately  contributed 
largely  to  the  organisation  of  feudalism.  In  all  these 
spheres  the  traces  of  his  vast,  organising,  and  far-seeing 
genius  may  bo  detected,  and  the  influence  which  he  exercised 
over  the  imaginations  of  men  is  shown  by  the  numerous* 
legends  of  which  he  is  the  hero.  In  the  preceding  ages  the 
supreme  ideal  had  been  the  ascetic.  When  the  po])ular 
imagination  embodied  in  legends  its  conception  of  humanity 
in  its  noblest  and  most  attractive  form,  it  instinctively 
painted  some  hermit-saint  of  many  penances  and  many 
miracles.  In  the  Romances  of  Charlemagne  and  of  Arthur 
we  may  trace  the  dawning  of  a  new  tyi)e  of  greatness.  The 
hero  of  the  imagination  of  Europe  was  no  longer  a  hermit, 
but  a  king,  a  warrior,  a  knight.  The  long  train  of  inihiencea 
I  have  reviewed,  culminating  in  Charlemagne,  had  done 
their  work.  The  age  of  the  ascetics  began  to  fade.  The  agf 
of  the  crusades  an<l  of  .;hivalry  .succeerled  it. 


"n' 


FROM    CONSTANTINE    TO    CHARLEMAGNE.  273 

It  is  curious  to  observe  the  maimer  in  which,  tmder  the 
iniliience  of  the  prevailing  tendency,  the  career  of  Charle- 
magne was  trausfigiu-ed  by  the  popular  imagination.  His 
military  enterprises  had  been  chiefly  directed  against  the 
Saxons,  against  whom  he  had  made  not  less  than  thu'ty-two 
expeditions.  With  the  Mohammedans  he  had  but  little 
contact.  It  was  Charles  Martel,  not  his  grandson,  who,  by 
the  great  battle  of  Poitiers,  had  checked  their  career.  Charle- 
magne made,  in  person,  but  a  single  expedition  against  them 
in  Spain,  and  that  expedition  was  on  a  small  scale,  and  was 
disastrous  in  its  issue.  But  in  the  Carlovingian  romances, 
which  arose  at  a  time  when  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Crusades 
was  permeating  Christendom,  events  were  represented  in  a 
wholly  different  light.  Charles  Martel  has  no  place  among 
the  ideal  combatants  of  the  Church.  He  had  appeared  too 
early,  his  figiu-e  was  not  sufficiently  gi*eat  to  fascinate  the 
popular  imagination,  and  by  confiscating  ecclesiastical  pro- 
perty, and  refusing  to  assist  the  Pope  against  the  Lombards, 
he  had  fallen  under  the  ban  of  the  clergy.  Charlemagne,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  represented  as  the  first  and  greatest  of 
the  crusaders.  His  wars  with  the  Saxons  were  scarcely 
noticed.  His  whole  life  was  said  to  have  been  spent  in 
heroic  and  triumphant  combats  with  the  followers  of 
Mohammed.^  Among  the  achievements  attributed  to  him  was 
an  expedition  to  rescue  Nismes  and  Carcassonne  from  their 
gi-asp,  which  was,  in  fact,  a  dim  tradition  of  the  victories  of 
Charles  Martel.'^  He  is  even  said  to  liave  carried  his  vic- 
torious arms  into  the  heart  of  Palestine,  and  he  is  the  hero 
of  what  are  probably  the  three  earliest  extant  romances  of 
the  Crusades.^     In  fiction,  as  in  history,  his  reign  forms  the 


'  Fauriel,   Hift.   de  la  Poesie  pref.    p.    xxiv.     These    romances 

provcn^dle,  tome  ii.  p.  252.  were  accounts  of  his  expeditions  to 

'  Ibid,  p.  258.  Spain,  to  Languedoc,  and  to  Pales- 

'  Le  Gmnd  D'AusBj,  Fabliaux,  fine. 


274  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

great   landmark  separating  the  early  period  of  the  middle 
ages  from  the  age  of  military  Chi-istianity. 

On  the  verge  of  this  great  change  I  draw  this  history  to 
a  close.  In  pursuing  our  long  and  chequered  coiu-se,  from 
Augustus  to  Charlemagne,  we  have  seen  the  rise  and  fall  of 
many  types  of  character,  and  of  many  forms  of  enthusiasm, 
"We  have  seen  the  influence  of  universal  empire  expanding, 
and  the  influence  of  Gi-eek  civilisation  intensifying,  the 
sympathies  of  Europe.  We  have  surveyed  the  successive 
progress  of  Stoicism,  Platonism,  and  Egj^^^tian  philosophies, 
at  once  reflecting  and  guidmg  the  moral  tendencies  of  society. 
We  have  traced  the  course  of  progress  or  retrogi-ession  in 
many  fields  of  social,  political,  and  legislative  life,  have 
watched  the  cradle  of  Em^opean  Christianity,  examined  the 
causes  of  its  triumph,  the  difficulties  it  encountered,  and  the 
priceless  blessings  its  philanthropic  sjjirit  bestowed  upon 
mankind.  We  have  also  pursued  step  by  stej»  the  mouinful 
history  of  its  corruption,  its  asceticism,  and  its  intolerance, 
the  various  transformations  it  produced  or  underwent  when 
the  turbid  waters  of  the  barbarian  invasions  had  inundated 
the  civilisations  of  Europe.  It  remains  for  me,  before  con- 
cluding this  work,  to  investigate  one  class  of  subjects  to 
which  I  have,  as  yet,  but  briefly  adverted — to  examine  the 
effects  of  the  changes  I  have  described  upon  the  character 
and  position  of  woman,  and  upon  the  gi-ave  moml  question 
convioming  the  relations  of  the  sexes. 


THK    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  275 


CHAPTER    V. 

TIJE   POSITION   OF   WOMEN. 

In  the  long  series  of  moral  revolutions  that  have  been 
described  in  the  foregoing  chapters,  I  have  more  than  once 
had  occasion  to  refer  to  the  position  that  "was  assigned  to 
woman  in  the  community,  and  to  the  virtues  and  vices  that 
spring  directly  from  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  I  have  not, 
however,  as  yet  discussed  these  questions  with  a  fulness  at 
all  corresponding  to  their  historical  impoiiance,  and  I  pro- 
pose, in  consequence,  before  concluding  this  volume,  to  devote 
a  few  pages  to  their  examination.  Of  all  the  many  questions 
that  are  treated  in  this  work,  there  is  none  which  I  approach 
with  so  much  hesitation,  for  there  is  probably  none  which  it 
Ls  so  difficult  to  treat  with  clearness  and  impartiality,  and  at 
the  same  time  without  exciting  any  scandal  or  oflence. 
The  complexity  of  the  problem,  arising  from  the  very  large 
place  which  exceptional  institutions  oi'  circumstances,  and 
especially  the  influence  of  climate  and  race,  have  had  on  the 
chastity  of  nations,  I  have  already  noticed,  and  the  extreme 
delicacy  of  the  matters  with  which  this  branch  of  ethics 
is  connected  must  be  i)ulpable  to  all.  The  first  duty  of  an 
historian,  however,  is  to  truth  ;  and  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
to  present  a  true  picture  of  the  moral  condition  of  diflerout 
ages,  and  to  form  a  true  estimate  of  the  moral  effects  ot 
ditferent  religions,  without  adverting  to  the  department  of 
moi-als,  wliich  has  exhibited  most  cliange,  and  has  probably 
exorcised  most  influence. 


276  HISTOEY    OF    EDROrEAN    MORALS. 

It  is  natural  ttat,  in  tbe  period  when  men  are  still  perfect 
barbarians,  when  their  habits  of  life  are  still  nomadic,  and 
when,  war  and  the  chase,  being  their  sole  pursuits,  the 
qualities  that  are  required  in  these  form  their  chief  measure 
of  excellence,  the  inferiority  of  women  to  men  should  be 
regarded  as  undoubted.,  and  their  position  should  be  extremely 
degi-aded.  In  all  thos3  qualities  which  are  then  most  i>rized, 
women  are  indisputably  inferior.  The  social  qualities  in 
which  they  are  especially  fitted  to  excel  have  no  sphere  for 
theii*  display.  The  ascendancy  of  beauty  is  very  faint,  and, 
even  if  it  were  otherwise,  few  traces  of  female  beauty  could 
survive  the  hardships  of  the  savage  life.  "Woman  is  looked 
upon  merely  as  the  slave  of  man,  and  as  the  minister  to 
his  passions.  In  the  first  capacity,  her  life  is  one  of  continual, 
abject,  and  unrequited  toil.  In  the  second  capacity,  she  is 
exposed  to  all  the  violent  revulsions  of  feeling  that  follow, 
among  rude  men,  the  gratification  of  the  animal  passions. 

Even  in  this  early  stage,  however,  we  may  trace  some 
rudiments  of  those  moi-al  sentiments  which  are  destined  at  a 
later  pei-iod  to  expand.  The  institution  of  marriage  exists. 
The  value  of  chastity  is  commonly  in  some  degx-ee  felt,  and 
appears  in  the  indignation  which  is  displayed  against  the 
adulterer.  The  duty  of  restraining  the  passions  is  largely 
recognised  in  the  female,  though  the  males  are  only  re- 
stricted by  the  prohibition  of  adultery. 

The  first  two  steps  which  are  taken  towards  the  elevation 
of  woman  are  probably  the  abandonment  of  the  custom  of 
purchasing  wives,  and  the  construction  of  the  family  on  tlie 
basis  of  monogamy.  In  the  earliest  periods  of  civilisation,  the 
marriage  contract  was  arranged  between  the  bridegi'oom  and 
the  father  of  the  bride,  on  the  condition  of  a  sum  of  money 
boing  paid  by  the  former  to  the  latter.  This  sum,  wliich 
is  known  in  the  laws  of  the  barbaiians  as  the  *  mundium,' ' 


'  Tlie  (iSva  of  the  Greeks. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  277 

was  in  fact  a  payment  to  the  father  for  the  cession  of  his 
daughter,  -who  thus  became  the  bought  slave  of  her  husband. 
It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  featui-es  of  the  ancient  laws 
of  India,  that  they  forbade  this  gift,  on  the  ground  that  the 
parent  should  not  sell  his  child ;  '  but  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  this  sale  was  at  one  time  the  ordinary  type  of 
inaiTiage.  In  the  Jewish  writings  we  find  Jacob  purchasing 
Leah  and  Rachel  by  certain  services  to  their  father;  and 
this  custom,  which  seems  to  have  been  at  one  time 
general  in  Judea,^  appears  in  the  age  of  Homer  to  have 
been  general  in  Greece.  At  an  early  period,  however,  of 
Greek  history,  the  purchase-money  was  replaced  by  the 
dowry,  or  sum  of  money  paid  by  the  father  of  the  bride  for 
the  use  of  his  daughter;^  and  this,  although  it  passed  into  the 
hands  of  the  husband,  contributed  to  elevate  the  wife,  in  the 
first  place,  by  the  dignity  it  gave  her,  and,  in  the  next  place, 
by  special  laws,  which  both  in  Greece  and  Rome  secured  it 
to  her  in  most  cases  of  separation.'*  The  wife  thus  possessed 
a  guarantee  against  ill-usage  by  her  husband.  She  ceased  to 
!«  his  slave,  and  became  in  some  degree  a  contracting  party. 


'  Legouve,  Histoire  morale  des  dowry    from    Icarus,  hci*    father. 

Femmes,  pp.  95-96.  M.  Michtlet,  in  one  of  ihuso  fanci- 

^  Gen.  xxix.,  xxxiv.  12;  Deut.  ful   books   which   he  has  recently 

xxii.  29  ;  1  Sum.  xviii.  25.  published,  nmintains  a  view  of  the 

*  The    history  of    dowries    is  object  of  the  tSva  which   I  do  not 

briefly  noticed  by  Grote,  Hist,  of  remember  to  have  seen  elsewhere, 

Greece,  vol.  ii.  pp.   112-113;  and  and  which  I  do  not  believe.     He 

more  fully  by  L(jrd  Kames,  in  the  says  :  '  Ce  prix  n'e.st  point  un  achat 

admirable  chapter   '  On   the    Pro-  de  la  fenime,  mais  uiie  indemnite 

gress    of  the  Female  Sex,'  in  his  qui  dcdommage  la  faniillo  du  ptre 

Sketches  of  the  History  of  Man,  a  pour   les   enfants  futurs,   qui    ne 

book  less  read  than  it  deserves  to  profiteront  pas  a  cette  famille  mais 

be.     M.  Legouv^  has  also  devoted  a  celle  oil  la  femmo  va  entrer.' — 

a  chapter  to  it  in  his  Hist,  morale  La  Fenime,  p.  166. 

des  Femmes.     See,  too,   Legendre,  *  InEome,  when  thesepantion 

Traite  de  V  Opinion,  tome  ii.    pp.  was  due  to  the  misconduct  of  tlie 

329-330.     We   find  traces  of  the  wife,  the  dowry  belonged  to  hex 

dowry,  as  well  as  of  the  4'Si/a,  in  husband. 
Homer.     Penelope  had  rei^eivcd  a 

50 


278  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Among  the  eai-ly  Germans,  a  different  and  very  i-emarkable 
custom  oxisted.  The  bride  did  not  biing  any  dowry  to  her 
husband,  nor  did  the  bridegi-oom  give  anything  to  the  father 
of  the  bride ;  but  he  gave  his  gift  to  the  bride  herself,  on  the 
iBorning  after  the  first  night  of  marriage,  and  this,  whicli 
was  called  the  '  Morgengab,'  or  morning  gift,  was  the  origin 
of  the  joiriture.' 

Still  more  impoi-tant  than  the  foregoing  was  the  institu- 
tion of  monogamy,  by  which,  from  its  earliest  days,  the  Greek 
civilisation  proclaimed  its  superiority  to  the  Asiatic  civilisa- 
tions that  had   preceded   it.     We   may   regaid    monogamy 
either  in  the  light  of  our  intuitive  moral  sentiment  on  tht 
subject  of  purity,  or  in  the  light  of  the  interests  of  society. 
In  its  Oiiental  or  polygamous  stage,  marriage  is  regarded 
almost  exclusively,  in  its  lowest  aspect,  avS  a  gratification  of 
the    j)assions ;    while    in    European   marriages    the   mutual 
attachment  and  respect  of  the  contracting  parties,  the  foi-ma- 
tion  of  a  household,  and  the  long  train  of  domestic  feelings 
and  duties  that  accompany  it,  have  all  then'  ili-itinguished 
])lace  among  the  motives  of  the   contract,  and    the   lower 
element  has  comparatively  little  pi-ommence.     In  this  way  it 
may  be  intelligibly  said,  without  any  reference  to  utilitarian 
considerations,  that  monogamy  is  a  higher  state   than  poly- 
gamy.      The  utilitarian  arguments  in  its  defence  are  also 
extremely    powerful,    and    may    be    summed    up   in  thi*ee 
sentences.     Nature,  by  making  the  number  of   males    and 
females  nearly  ecpial,  indicates  it  as  natural.     In  no  other 
form  of  marriage  can  the  government  of  the  family,  whicli  ia 
one  of  the  chief  ends  of  marriage,  be  so  haj)pily  sustained, 


'  '  Dotf-m  non  uxor  marito  sed  that    no    Longobard   should   give 

■ixori  maritus  offert.' — Tjic.  Germ,  nioro  tlian  one-fourth  of  liis  sub 

xviii.      On    tho    Morgengab,    .soo  sfancoas.a  iMorgciig.ib.     In  Gre- 

Caiiciaiii,  Lrycs  lj(irh(irunim  (Vu-  gory  of  Tours  (ix.  20)  wo  have  an 

neliis,    1781),  vol.  i.  pp.   102-101;  example  of  the  gilt  of  some  citie* 

li.  pp.  T.>i>-1',]\.    ^\\xvii\ I yr\,  Antic h.  as  u  MorgongaLi. 
itaL  dis.i.  XX.     Lnitprind  enacted 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  279 

Aud  in  no  other  does  woman  assume  tlse  position  of  the  equal 
of  man. 

Monogamy  was  the  general  system  in  Greece,  though 
there  are  said  to  have  been  slight  and  temporary  deviatioiia 
iaito  the  earlier  system,  after  some  gi-eat  disasters,  wlien  an 
increase  of  population  was  ardently  desired.^  A  broad  line 
must,  however,  be  di-awn  between  the  legendary  or  poetical 
period,  as  reflected  in  Homer  and  perpetuated  in  the  trage- 
dians, and  the  later  historical  period.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable,  and  to  some  writers  one  of  the  most 
perplexing,  facts  in  the  moral  history  of  Greece,  that  in  the 
foi-mer  and  ruder  period  women  had  undoubtedly  the  highest 
place,  and  their  type  exbibited  the  highest  perfection.  IMoi-al 
ideas,  in  a  thousand  forms,  have  been  sublimated,  enlarged, 
and  changed,  by  advancing  civilisation ;  but  it  may  be 
fearlessly  asserted  that  the  types  of  female  excellence  which 
are  contained  in  the  Greek  poems,  while  they  are  among  the 
earliest,  are  also  among  the  most  perfect  in  the  literature  of 
mankind.  The  conjugal  tenderness  of  Hector  and  Andro- 
mache ;  the  unwearied  fidelity  of  Penelope,  awaiting  through 
the  long  revolving  jcars  the  return  of  her  storm-tossed 
husband,  who  looked  forward  to  her  as  to  the  crown  of  all 
his  labours ;  the  heroic  love  of  Alcestis,  voluntarily  dying 
that  her  husband  might  live ;  the  filial  piety  of  Antigone ; 
the  majestic  grandeur  of  the  death  of  Polyxena ;  the  more 
subdued  and  saintly  resignation  of  Iphigenia,  excusing  with 
her  last  breath  the  father  who  had  condemned  her ;  the 
joyous,  modest,  and  loving  Nausicaji,  whose  figure  shines  like 
a  perfect  idyll  among  the  tragedies  of  the  Odyssey — all  these 
are  pictures  of  perennial  beauty,  which  Eome  and  Chi-isten- 
dom,  chivalry  and  modern  civilisation,  have  neither  eclipsed 
nor  transcended.     Virgin  modesty  and  conjugal  fidelity,  the 


'  See,  on  this  point,  Aul.  Gcllius,  Koct.  Alt.  xv.  20.     EuriinJcs  i« 
Baid  to  have  had  two  wives. 


280  HISTORY   OF   EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

graces  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  the  most  perfect  womanhood, 
have  never  been  more  exquisitely  poui-trajed.  The  female 
figures  stand  out  in  the  canvas  almost  as  prominently  as  the 
male  ones,  and  are  surrovinded  by  an  almost  equal  reverence. 
The  whole  historv  of  the  Siege  of  Trov  is  a  liistorv  of  the 
catastrophes  that  followed  a  violation  of  the  nuptial  tie. 
Yet,  at  the  same  time,  the  position  of  women  was  in  some 
respects  a  degraded  one.  The  custom  of  purchase-money 
given  to  thd  father  of  the  bride  was  general.  The  husbands 
appear  to  have  indulged  largely,  and  with  little  or  no  censure, 
in  concubines. '  Female  captives  of  the  highest  rank  were 
treated  with  great  hai"shness.  The  inferiority  of  women  to 
men  was  strongly  asserted,  and  it  was  illustrated  and  de- 
fended by  a  very  curious  physiological  notion,  that  the 
generative  power  belonged  exclusively  to  men,  women  having 
only  a  very  subordinate  part  in  the  production  of  their 
children.'^  The  woman  Pandora  was  said  to  have  been  the 
author  of  all  human  ills. 

In  the  historical  age  of  Greece,  the  legal  position  of 
women  had  in  some  respects  slightly  improved,  but  their 
moi-al  condition  had  undergone  a  marked  deterioration. 
Virtuous  women  lived  a  life  of  perfect  seclusion.  The  fore- 
most and  most  dazzling  type  of  Ionic  womanhood  was  the 


'  Aristotle   said   that    TTomor  afcepting  it,  nnd  arpuin*^  from  it, 

never  gives  a  concubine  to  Mene-  that  a  father  should  be  more  loved 

lau.s,    in    order    to    intimate    his  than  a  mother.     M.  Lcgouv6  says 

respect   for  Helen — though  false,  that  ■when  the  male  of  one  animal 

{AiheJireus.  xiii.  3.)  and    the   female    of    another  are 

*  iEschyhishasput  thi.«'Curious  crossed,    the    typo    of   the  female 

notion  into  the  mouth  of  Apollo,  usually  predominates  in    the  oflF- 

in  a  speech  in  the  Eumenides.     It  spring.     Seohegouvi,  fJist.  morale 

has,    however,    been   very   widely  des  Femme.i,  pp.  216-228  ;  Fustel 

diffused,   nnd   may   bo    found    in  de  Coulanges,  La  CM  antique,  pp. 

Inli.in,    Greek,    Roman,  and  even  30-40;  and  also  a  curious  note  by 

Christian    wTifers.     M.    Legouv^,  Boswell,    in    Croker's  edition    of 

"who  has  devoted  a   very  curious  BosweU's  Life  of  Johnson  (1847)^ 

chapter   to  the  Biibjpct,  quotes  a  p.  472. 
ptMuige  from  St.  Thomas  Aquinas, 


THE    POSITIO::?    OF    WOMEN.  28  i 

courtesan,  while,  among  the  men,  the  latitude  accorded  by 
public  opinion  was  almost  imrestricted. 

The  facts  in  moral  history,  w^hich  it  is  at  once  most 
important  and  most  difficult  to  appreciate,  are  what  may  be 
calJed  the  facts  of  feeling.  It  is  much  easier  to  show  what 
men  did  or  taught  than  to  realise  the  state  of  mind  that  ren- 
dered possible  such  actions  or  teaching ;  and  in  the  case  before 
us  we  have  to  deal  with  a  condition  of  feeling  so  extremely 
remote  from  that  of  our  own  day,  that  the  difficidty  ia  pre- 
eminently great.  Very  sensual,  and  at  the  same  time  very 
brilliant  societies,  have  indeed  repeatedly  existed,  and  the 
histoi'ies  of  both  France  and  Italy  affijrd  many  examples  of 
an  artistic  and  intellectual  enthusiasm  encircling  those  who 
were  morally  most  frail ;  but  the  peculiarity  of  Greek  sen- 
suality is,  that  it  grew  up,  for  the  most  part,  uncensured, 
and  indeed  even  encouraged,  under  the  eyes  of  some  of  the 
most  illustrious  of  moralists.  If  we  can  imagine  Xinon  de 
I'Enclos  at  a  time  when  the  rank  and  splendour  of  Parisian 
society  thronged  her  drawing-rooms,  reckoning  a  Bossuet 
or  a  Fenelon  among  her  followers — if  wo  can  imagine  these 
prelates  publicly  advising  her  about  the  duties  of  her  pi-o- 
fession,  and  the  means  of  attaching  the  affections  of  her 
lovers — we  shall  have  conceived  a  relation  scarcely  more 
strance  than  that  which  existed  between  Socrates  and  the 
courtesan  Theodota. 

In  order  to  reconstruct,  as  far  as  possible,  the  modes  of 
feeling  of  the  Greek  moralists,  it  will  be  necessary  in  the 
first  place  to  say  a  few  words  concerning  one  of  the  most 
delicate,  but  at  the  same  time  most  important,  problems 
with  which  the  legislator  and  the  moralist  have  to  deal. 

It  was  a  favourite  doctrine  of  the  Christian  Fathers,  that 
concupiscence,  or  the  sensual  passion,  was  '  the  original  sin  * 
of  human  nature  ;  and  it  must  be  owned  that  the  progress  of 
knowledge,  which  is  usually  extremely  opposed  to  the  ascetic 
theory  of  life,  concurs  with  the  theological  view,  in  showing 


282  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  natui-al  force  of  this  appetite  to  be  far  greater  than  tlie 
well-being  of  man  requii-es.  The  writings  of  Mai  thus  have 
proved,  what  the  Greek  moralists  appear  in  a  considerable 
degree  to  have  seen,  that  its  normal  and  temperate  exercise 
in  the  form  of  marriage,  would  produce,  if  universal,  the 
utmost  calamities  to  the  world,  and  that,  while  nature  seems 
in  the  most  unequivocal  manner  to  urge  the  human  race  to 
early  maiTiages,  the  fiist  condition  of  an  advancing  civilisa- 
tion in  populous  countries  is  to  restrain  or  diminish  them. 
In  no  highly  civilised  society  is  maiTiage  general  on  the  firat 
development  of  the  passions,  and  the  contiaual  tendency  of 
increasing  knowledge  is  to  render  such  marriages  more  rare. 
It  is  also  an  undoubted  truth  that,  however  much  moralists 
may  enforce  the  obligation  of  extra-matrimonial  puiity,  this 
obligation  has  never  been  even  approximately  regarded  ;  and 
in  all  nations,  ages,  and  religions  a  vast  mass  of  ii-regulai 
indulgence  has  appeared,  which  has  probaljly  contributed 
more  than  any  other  single  cause  to  the  misei-y  and  the  degra- 
dation of  man. 

There  are  two  ends  which  a  moralist,  in  dealing  with  this 
question,  will  especially  regard— the  natural  duty  of  every 
man  doing  something  for  the  support  of  the  child  he  has 
called  into  existence,  and  the  preservation  of  the  domestic 
circle  unassailed  and  unpolluted.  The  family  is  the  ccnti-e 
and  the  archetype  of  the  State,  and  the  happiness  and  good- 
ness of  society  are  always  in  a  very  great  degree  dependent 
upon  the  puiity  of  domestic  life.  The  essentially  exclusive 
nature  of  maiital  affection,  and  the  natural  desire  of  every 
man  to  be  certain  of  the  paternity  of  the  child  he  supports, 
render  the  incursions  of  irregular  passions  within  the  domestic 
circle  a  cause  of  extreme  suffering.  Yet  it  would  apjxsar  as 
if  the  excessive  force  of  these  passions  would  render  such 
incursions  both  frequent  and  inevitable. 

Under  these  circumstances,  there  has  arisen  in  society  a 
figure  which  is  certainly  the  most  mournful,  and  in  some 


THE    rOSITION    OF    WOMEN.  283 

respects  the  most  a^v4'ul,  upoa  wliick  the  eye  of  the  moralist 
can  dwell.  That  unhappy  being  whose  very  name  is  a  shame 
to  speak ;  who  counterfeits  with  a  cold  heart  the  transports 
of  affection,  and  submits  herself  as  the  passive  instrument  of 
lust ;  who  is  scorned  and  insulted  as  the  vilest  of  her  sex, 
and  doomed,  for  the  most  pait,  to  disease  and  abje<:t 
wretchedness  and  an  early  death,  appeais  in  every  age  as  tlie 
perpetual  symbol  of  the  degradation  and  the  sinfulness  of 
man.  Herself  the  supreme  type  of  vice,  she  is  ultimately 
the  most  efficient  guardian  of  virtue.  But  for  her,  the  un- 
challenged purity  of  countless  happy  homes  would  be 
polluted,  and  not  a  few  who,  in  the  pride  of  their  untemptc-d 
chastity,  think  of  her  with  an  indignant  shudder,  would 
have  known  the  agony  of  remorse  and  of  despair.  On  that 
one  degraded  and  ignoble  form  are  concentrated  the  passions 
that  might  have  filled  the  world  with  shame.  She  I'cmains, 
while  creeds  and  civilisations  rise  and  fall,  the  eternal  priestess 
of  humanity,  blasted  for  the  sins  of  the  people. 

In  dealing  with  this  unhappy  being,  and  with  all  of  her 
sex  who  have  violated  the  law  of  chastity,  the  public  opinion 
of  most  Christian  countries  pronounces  a  sentence  of  extreme 
severity.  In  the  Anglo-Saxon  nations  esjjecially,  a  single 
fixult  of  this  kind  is  sufficient,  at  least  in  the  upi^er  and  middle 
classes,  to  affix  an  indelible  brand  which  no  time,  no  vii'tues, 
no  penitence  can  wholly  efface.  This  sentence  is  probably, 
in  the  first  instance,  simply  the  expression  of  the  religious 
fcelijig  on  the  subject,  but  it  is  also  sometimes  defended  l»y 
powerful  arguments  drawn  from  the  interests  of  society.  It 
is  said  that  the  presei-vation  of  domestic  purity  is  a  matter  of 
such  transcendent  importance  that  it  is  right  that  the  most 
crushing  penalties  should  be  attached  to  an  act  which  the 
imagination  can  cjisily  tiunsfigure,  which  legal  enactments 
can  never  efficiently  control,  and  to  which  the  most  violent 
passions  may  prompt.  It  is  said,  too,  that  an  anathema 
which  dri^'es  into  obscurity  all  evidences  of  sensual  jiassioua 


284  HISTORY  OF  European  morals. 

is  peculiarly  fitted  to  restrict  their  operation  ;  for.  more  than 
any  other  passions,  they  are  dependent  on  the  imagination, 
which  is  readily  fired  by  the  sight  of  evil.  It  is  added,  that 
the  emphasis  with  which  the  vice  is  stigmatised  produces  a 
corresponding  admiration  for  the  opposite  virtue,  and  that  a 
feeling  of  the  most  delicate  and  scrupulous  honour  is  thus 
formed  among  the  female  population,  which  not  only  pre- 
serves from  gross  sin,  but  also  dignifies  and  ennobles  the 
whole  character. 

In  opposition  to  these  views,  several  considerations  of 
much  weight  have  been  urged.  It  is  argued  that,  however 
persistently  society  may  ignore  this  form  of  vice,  it  exists 
nevertheless,  and  on  the  most  gigantic  s«ile,  and  that  evil 
rarely  assumes  such  inveterate  and  perverting  forms  as  when 
it  is  shrouded  in  obscurity  and  veiled  by  an  hypocritical  ap- 
jjearance  of  unconsciousness.  The  existence  in  England  of 
cei-tainly  not  less  than  fifty  thousand  unliappy  women,'  sunk 
in  the  very  lowest  depths  of  vice  and  misery,  shows  suflfi- 
ciently  what  an  appalling  amount  of  moral  evil  is  festering 
uncontrolled,  undiscussed,  and  unalleviated,  under  the  fair 
surface  of  a  decorous  society.  In  the  eyes  of  every  physician, 
and  indeed  in  the  eyes  of  most  continental  writers  who  have 
adverted  to  the  subject,  no  other  feature  of  English  life 
appears  so  infamous  aa  the  fact  that  an  epidemic,  which  is 
one  of  the  most  dreadful  now  existing  among  mankind,  which 
communicates  itself  from  the  guilty  husband  to  the  innocent 
wife,  and  even  transmits  its  inint  to  her  offspring,  and  which 
the  experience  of  other  nations  conclusively  proves  may  be 
vastly  diminished,  should   be   suffered    to   rage  unchecked 


'  Dr.  VintrHS,  in  ;i  remarkable  in  1864,  was  49,370 ;  iiiul  tliis  io 

pamphlet  (London,    1807)    Om  the  certainly   much    below    the  entire 

r.epression  of  I^rodiUition,  shows  number.      These,    it   will    bo    ob- 

from  the  police  statistics  tliat  the  served,  comprise  only  the  habitual 

number   of  prostitutes   known    to  professional  prostitute" 
I  he  police  in   England  and  Wales. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  285 

because  the  Legislature  refuses  to  take  official  cognisance  of 
its  existence,  or  proper  sanitary  measures  for  its  repression.* 
If  the  terrible  censure  which  English  public  opinion  passes 
upon  every  instance  of  female  frailty  in  some  degree  dimi- 
nishes the  number,  it  does  not  prevent  such  instances  from 
being  extremely  numerous,  and  it  immeasurably  aggravates 
the  suffering  they  produce.  Acts  which  in  other  European 
countries  would  excite  only  a  slight  and  transient  emotion, 
spread  in  England,  over  a  wide  circle,  all  the  bitterness  of 
unmitigated  anguish.  Acts  which  naturally  neither  imply 
nor  produce  a  total  subversion  of  the  moral  feelings,  and 
which,  in  other  countries,  are  often  followed  by  happy, 
virtuous,  and  affectionate  lives,  in  England  almost  invari- 
ably lead  to  absolute  ruin.  Infanticide  is  gi-eatly  multiplied, 
and  a  vast  proportion  of  those  whose  reputations  and  lives 
have  been  blasted  by  one  momentary  sin,  are  hurled  into  the 
abyss  of  habitual  prostitution — a  condition  which,  owing  to 
the  sentence  of  public  opinion  and  the  neglect  of  legislators, 
is  in  no  other  Eui'opean  country  so  hopelessly  viciou.s  or  so 
irrevocable.^ 

It  is  added,  too,  that  the  immense  multitude  who  are 
thus  doomed  tO'  the  extremity  of  life-long  wretchedness  ai-e 
not  always,  perhaps  not  generally,  of  those  whose  disposi- 
tions seem  naturally  incapable  of  virtue.     The  victims  of 


'  Some  measures  have  recently  copious    supplomentnry    accounts, 

been  taken  in  a  few  garrison  towns,  furnished      by    different      doctors 

The  moral  sentiment  of  the  com-  in  different  countries, 

munity,    it     appears,     would    be  ^  ParentDuchiltelet  has  given 

shocked  if  Liverpool  were  treated  many  statistics,  showin":  the  very 

on  the  same  principles  as  Ports-  Lirpe  extent  to  which   tlio  French 

mouth.     This    very    painful    and  system  of  supervision  deters  those 

revolting,  but  most  important,  sub-  who    were    about    to    enter    into 

ject  has  been  treated  with  great  prostitution,    and   reclaims    those 

knowledge,       impartiality,       and  who  had  entered  into  it.     lie  and 

ability,     by     Piirent-Duchatelet,  Dr.  Vintnis  concur  in  representing 

in  his  famous   work,    La   Prosti-  English  prostitution  as  about  the 

tutio7i    dans    la    tiUe     de     Paris,  most   degraded,  and  at   the  samt 

The    third   edition    contains  very  time  the  most  irrevocable. 


28G 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


seduction  are  often  led  aside  quite  as  much  by  the  ardour  of 
theu'  affections,  and  by  the  vivacity  of  their  intelligence,  as 
by  any  vicious  propensities.  •  Even  in  the  lowest  gi-ades,  the 
most  dispassionate  observers  have  detected  remains  of  higher 
feelings,  which,  in  a  diflerent  moral  atmosphere,  and  under 
different  moral  husbandry,  would  have  undoubtedly  been 
developed.^  The  statistics  of  prostitution  show  that  a  great 
proportion  of  those  who  have  fallen  into  it  have  been  im- 
pelled by  the  most  extreme  poverty,  in  many  instances 
verging  upon  starvation.' 

These  ojiposing  considerations,  which  I  have  very  briefly 
indicated,   and  which   I    do  not   propose   to   discuss  or  to 


'  Miss  Mulock,  in  lier  anii<al)lo 
but  rather  feeble  book,  called  A 
Woma7is  Thoughts  about  Women, 
has  some  jrood  remarks  on  this 
point  (pp.  201-293),  wliich  are  all 
tlie  more  vahiablo,  as  the  authoress 
has  not  tiif.  faintest  sympathy  with 
any  opinions  concerning  tiio  cliar- 
acter  and  position  of  ■women  whieh 
are  not  strictly  conventional.  Slio 
notices  the  experience  of  Sunday 
school  mistresses,  that,  of  their 
])uyiiis  ■who  are  seduced,  an  ex- 
tremely largo  proportion  are  '  of 
the  very  best,  refined,  intelligent, 
trutliful,  and  affi'ctionate.' 

■■^  Sec  the  very  singular  and  pain- 
ful chapter  in  Parent-Duchatelet, 
called  '  jMmurs  ct  Habitudes  des 
Prostituees.'  lie  observes  that 
tliey  are  remarkable  for  their 
kindness  to  one  another  in  sickness 
or  in  distress  ;  that  tliey  are  not 
unfrequcntiy  charitable  to  poor 
people  ■who  do  not  belong  to  their 
cla.SK;  that  ■^hen  one  of  them  has 
a  child,  it  becomes  the  object  of 
rei'7  general  interest  and  affection  ; 
I  hat  nio«t  of  them  have  lovers,  to 


■whom  tliey  are  sincerely  attached  ; 
tiiat  th(\v  rarely  Jail  to  sho^w  in 
the  hospitals  a  very  real  sense  of 
shame ;  and  that  many  of  them 
entered  into  thtur  mode  of  life  for 
the  ]iui'poso  of  supporting  aged 
parents.  One  anecdote  is  worth 
giving  in  the  ■words  of  the  author: 
'  Un  medecin  n'entrant  jamais  dans 
leurs  salles  sans  oter  leg6rement 
son  chapeau,  par  cctto  seule  poli- 
tesse  il  sut  tellcment  conquerir 
lenr  confiance  qu'il  leur  faisait 
fairo  tout  ce  qu'il  voulait.'  This 
writer,  I  rnay  observe,  is  not  a 
romance  writer  or  a  theorist  of  any 
description.  He  is  simply  a  phy- 
sician who  describes  the  results  of 
a  very  large  official  experience. 

'  '  Parent-Ihichiitelet  atteste 
que  sur  trois  niillo  creatures  pcr- 
dues  trente  cinq  seulement  avaient 
un  etat  qui  pouvait  les  nourrir,  et 
quo  quatorzo  cents  avaitint  ete  pre- 
cipitees  dans  cetto  horrible  vie  par 
la  misero.  Uno  d'elles,  quaml  ella 
s'y  resolut,  n'avait  pas  mang6  de« 
])uis  trois  jours.' — Legonve.  HUtt 
morale  dea  Fcmmes,  pp.  322-323. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  287 

estimate,  will  be  sufficient  to  exhibit  the  magnitude  of  ihe 
problem.  In.  the  Greek  civilisation,  legislatoi'S  and  moralista 
endeavoured  to  meet  it  by  the  cordial  recognition  of  two 
distinct  orders  of  womanhood ' — the  wife,  whose  first  duty 
wras  fidelity  to  her  husband;  the  hettera,  or  mistress,  who 
subsisted  by  her  fugitive  attachments.  The  wives  of  the 
Greeks  lived  in  almost  absolute  seclusion.  They  were 
usually  married  when  very  young.  Their  occupations  were  to 
weave,  to  spin,  to  embroider,  to  supeiintend  the  household, 
to  care  for  their  sick  slaves.  They  lived  in  a  special  and 
retu'ed  part  of  the  house.  The  more  wealthy  seldom  went 
abroad,  and  never  except  when  accompanied  by  a  female 
slave;  never  attended  the  public  spectacles;  received  no 
male  visitors  except  in  the  presence  of  their  husbands,  and 
had  not  even  a  seat  at  theii-  own  tables  when  male  guests 
were  there.  Their  pre-eminent  virtue  was  fidelity,  and  it  is 
probable  that  this  w^as  very  strictly  and  very  generally  ob- 
served. Theii-  remarkable  freedom  from  temptations,  the 
public  opinion  which  strongly  discouraged  any  attempt  to 
seduce  them,  and  the  ample  sphere  for  illicit  pleasures  that 
was  accorded  to  the  other  sex,  all  contributed  to  protect  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  living,  as  they  did,  almost  exclusively 
among  their  female  slaves,  being  deprived  of  all  the  educating 
influence  of  male  society,  and  having  no  ])lace  at  those  public 
spectacles  wliich  were  the  chief  means  of  Athenian  culture, 
their  minds  must  necessarily  have  been  exceedingly  con- 
tracted. Thucydides  doubtless  expressed  the  prevailing  sen- 
timent of  his  countrymen  when  he  said  that  the  hiirhest 
merit  of  woman  is  not  to  be  spoken  of  either  for  good  or  for 


'  Concorninp;  the  position  uiul  Eainnevillo,      La     Fonme     dans 

character    of    Greek    women,  tlie  V Antiquiti- {J'-AVMi,  ]8(i5);  and  an 

rejuler  niiiy  obtain  ample  infornm-  article    'On    l-'omalo    Society    in 

tion  by  consulting  15ecker's   Chari-  Gi'ecce,'     in     the      twentv-seeond 

des  (trausiatcd  by  Metcalfe,  lS4o);  volume  of  the  Quartcrlij  licvuw. 


288  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

eril ;  and  Phidias  illustrated  the  same  feeling  when  he  repi«- 
sented  the  heavenly  Aphrodite  standing  on  a  toiioise,  typi- 
fying thereby  the  secluded  life  of  a  virtuous  woman. ' 

In  their  own  restricted  sphere  their  lives  were  probably 
not  unliappy.  Education  and  custom  rendered  the  purely 
domestic  life  that  was  assigned  to  them  a  second  nature,  and 
it  must  in  most  instances  have  reconciled  them  to  the  extra- 
matrimonial  connections  in  which  their  husbands  too  fre- 
quently indulged.  The  prevailing  manners  were  very  gentle. 
Domestic  oppression  is  scarcely  ever  spoken  of;  the  husband 
lived  chiefly  in  the  public  place ;  causes  of  jealousy  and  of 
dissension  could  seldom  occur;  and  a  feeling  of  warm  affection, 
though  not  a  feeling  of  equality,  must  doubtless  have  in  most 
cases  spontaneously  arisen.  In  the  writings  of  Xenophon 
we  have  a  channing  picture  of  a  husband  who  had  received 
into  his  arms  his  young  wife  of  fifteen,  absolutely  ignorant  of 
the  world  and  of  its  ways.  He  speaks  to  her  with  extreme 
kindness,  but  in  the  language  that  would  be  used  to  a  little 
child.  Her  task,  he  tells  her,  is  to  be  like  a  queen  bee, 
dwelling  continually  at  home  and  superintending  the  work  of 
her  slaves.  She  must  distribute  to  each  theii*  tasks,  must 
economise  the  family  income,  and  must  take  especial  care 
that  the  house  is  strictly  orderly — the  shoes,  the  pots,  and 
the  clothes  always  in  theii*  places.  It  is  also,  he  tells  her,  a 
jmi-t  of  her  duty  to  tend  her  sick  slaves ;  but  herc  his  wife 
inteiTupted  him,  exclaiming,  '  Nay,  but  that  will  indeed  be 
the  most  agreeable  of  my  offices,  if  such  as  I  treat  with  kind- 
ness are  likely  to  be  grateful,  and  to  love  me  more  than 
before.*  With  a  very  tender  and  delicate  care  to  avoid 
everything  resembling  a  reproach,  the  husband  persuades 
liis  wife  to  give  up  the  habits  of  weaiing  high-heeled  boots, 
in  order  to  appear  tall,  and  of  colouring  her  face  with  ver- 
milion and  white  lead.     He  promises  her  that  if  she  faith- 


'  Plutarch,  Conj.  PrcEc. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN,  289 

fully  perforuis  lier  duties  be  will  himself  be  the  first  and 
most  devoted  of  her  slaves.  He  assured  Soci-ates  that  when 
any  domestic  dispute  arose  he  could  extricate  himself  ad- 
mii'ably,  if  he  was  in  the  right ;  but  that,  whenever  he  was 
in  the  wrong,  he  found  it  inipoasible  to  convince  his  wife 
that  it  was  otherwise.' 

We  have  another  picture  of  Greek  married  life  in  the 
writings  of  Plutarch,  but  it  represents  the  condition  of  the 
Greek  mind  at  a  later  period  than  that  of  Xenophon.     In 
Plutarch  the  wife  is  represented  not  as  the  mere  housekeeper^ 
or  as  the  chief  slave  of  her  husband,  but  as  his  equal  and 
his    companion.      He    enforces,    in     the    strongest    terms, 
reciprocity  of  obligations,  and  desires   that   the   minds   of 
women   should  be   cultivated   to  the   highest   point. ^     His 
precepts  of  marriage,  indeed,  fall  little  if  at  all  below  any 
that  have  appeared  in  modern  days.     His  letter  of  consola- 
tion to  his  wife,  on  the  death  of  theu*  child,  breathes  a  spuit 
of   the   tenderest   affection.     It   is    recorded    of  him   that, 
having  had  some  dispute  with  the  relations  of  his  wife,  she 
feared  that  it  might  impair  their  domestic  happiness,  and  she 
accordingly  persuaded  her  husband  to  accompany  her  on  a 
pilgrimage  to  Mount  Helicon,  where  they  offered  up  together 
a  saciifice  to  Love,  and  prayed  that  their  affection  for  one 
another  might  never  be  diminished. 

In  general,  however,  the  position  of  the  virtuous  Greek 
woman  was  a  very  low  one.  She  was  under  a  perpetual 
tutelage  :  fii\st  of  all  to  her  parents,  who  disposed  of  her  hand, 
then  to  her  husband,  and  in  her  days  of  widowhood  to  her 
sons.  In  cases  of  inheritance  her  male  relations  v/ei-e 
preferred  to  her.  The  privilege  of  divorce,  which,  in  Athens, 
at  least,  she  possessed  as  well  as  her  husband,  ap{)ears  to 
have   been  practically  almost  nugatory,  on  account  of  the 

'  Xenophon,  Econ.  ii.  of  tho  character  of  a  good  wife  in 

-  Plut.   ConJ.   Preec.     There  is     Aristotle.     (^Economics,  book  L  cap 
ftlso  an  extremely  beautiful  picture     vii.'* 


290  TIISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

shock  which  ]iublic  declarations  in  the  law  court  gave  to  the 
habits    which    education    and    public    opinion   bad    formed. 
She  brouglit  w-th  her,  however,  a  dowry,  and  the  recognised 
necessity  of  endowing  daughters  was  one  of  the  causes  of 
those  frequent  expositions  which  were  perpetrated  witli  so 
little  blame.     The  Athenian  law  was  also  peculiarly  careful 
and  tender  in  dealing  with  the  interests  of  female  orphans.^ 
Plato  had  argued  that  women  were  equal  to  men  ;  but  the 
habits  of  the  people  were   totally  opposed  to   this   theory. 
IMari-iage  was  regarded  chiefly  in  a  civic  .light,  as  the  means  of 
producing  citizens,  and  in  Sparta  it  was  ordered  that  old  or 
infirm  husbands  should  cede  their  young  wives  to  stronger 
men,    who  could   produce   vigorous   soldiers   for  the  State. 
The  Lacedaemonian  treatment  of  women,  which  differed  in 
many  i-espects  from  that  which  prevailed  in  the  other  Gjeek 
States,   wliile  it  was  utterly  destructive  of  all  delicacy  of 
feeling  or  action,  had  undoubtedly  the  effect  of  producing  a 
fierce  and  masculine  patriotism  ;  and  many  fine  examples  are 
recorded  of  Spai-tan  mothers  devoting  their  sons  on  the  altar 
of  their  country,  rejoicing  over  their  deaths  when  nobly  won, 
and  infusing  their  own  heroic  spii-it  into  the  armies  of  the 
people.     For  the  most  part,  however,  the  names  of  vii-tuous 
women  seldom  appear  in  Greek  history.    The  simple  modesty 
which  was  evinced  by  Phocion's  wife,  in  the  period  when  her 
husband  occupied  the  foremost  position  in  Athens,"^  and  a 
few  instances  of  conjugal    and    filial    affection,    have    been 
recorded ;  but  in  general  the  only  women  who  attracted  tho 
notice  of  the  people  were  the  hetierse,  or  courtesans.^ 

'  See    Alexamlcr'g   Hisfori/    of  Dialorfiiea  of  Lucian  on  conrtesan.s 

»^'OTC»(Lonclon,  1783),  vol. i.p!  201.  and    "from    the    oration  of  Demo- 

■•' Plutarch,  PAomw.  pi  hcnes  against  Netei-a.     See,    too, 

'Our    information    conecrninj^  Xeuophon,    Mcmorahilia,    iii.    11; 

the  Greek  courtesans  is  chiefly  <!e-  and  among  modern  Iwoks,  Becker's 

fivedfrom  the  thirteenth bookof  the  CharideK.        Athenreus      was     an 

Deiimosophitifs  of  Athfnrpns,  from  E^yplian,    whose    exact    dat<?     is 

the  LcUcrs  of  Alciphi-on,  from  llio  unknown,  but  who  appears  to  have 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN,  291 

In  order  to  understand  the  position  which  these  last 
tssumed  in  Greek  life,  we  must  transport  ourselves  in 
thought  into  a  moral  la+itude  totally  diiferent  from  our  own 
The  Greek  conception  of  excellence  was  the  full  and  perfect 
development  of  humanity  in  all  its  organs  and  functions, 
and  without  any  tmge  of  asceticism.  Some  parts  of  human 
nature  were  recognised  as  higher  than  others  ;  and  to  sutler 
any  of  the  lower  appetites  to  obscure  the  mind,  restrain  the 
will  and  engross  the  energies  of  life,  was  acknowledged  to  be 
disgraceful ;  but  the  systematic  repression  of  a  natural  appetite 
was  totally  foreign  to  Greek  modes  of  thought.  Legislators, 
moralists,  and  the  general  voice  of  the  people,  appear  to  have 
applied  these  principles  almost  unreservedly  to  intercourse 
between  the  sexes,  and  the  most  virtuous  men  habitually  and 
openly  entered  into  relations  which  would  now  be  almost 
universally  censured. 

The  experience,  however,  of  many  Bocieties  has  showt 
that  a  public  opinion  may  accord,  in  this  respect,  almost 
unlimited  licence  to  one  sex,  without  showing  any  cor- 
responding indulgence  to  the  other.  But,  in  Greece,  a  con- 
currence of  causes  had  conspired  to  bring  a  certain  section 
of  courtesans  into  a  position  they  have  in  no  other  society 
attained.  The  voluptuous  worship  of  Aphrodite  gave  a  kind 
of  religious  sanction  to  their  profession.  Courtesans  were 
the  priestesses  in  her  temples,  and  those  of  Corinth  were 
believed  by  their  prayers  to  have  averted  calamities  from  theii' 
city.  Prostitution  is  said  to  have  entered  into  the  religious 
rites  of  Babylon,  Biblis,  Cyprus,  and  Corinth,  and  these  as 
well  as  Miletus,  Tenedos,  Lesbos,  and  Abydos  became  famous 
for  their  schools  of  vice,  which  gi-ew  up  under  the  shadow  of 
the  temples.' 

survived  XJlpian,  -who  died  in  a.d.  Aleiphron  is  believed  to  luive  lived 

228.     He  had  access  to,  and  g'lve  near  the  time  nf  Luciau. 
extracts  from,  many  works  on  this  '  Accordini]^  to  S'lmo  writers  the 

Bubjcct,  which,  have  now  perished,  word  'venerari'  comes  from  '  Veae- 


292  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    JIORALS. 

In  the  next  place,  the  intense  aesthetic  enthusiasm  that 
prevailed  was  eminently  fitted  to  raise  the  most  beautiful 
to  honour.  In  a  land  and  beneath  a  sky  where  natural 
beauty  developed  to  the  highest  point,  there  arose  a  school 
of  matchless  artists  both  in  painting  and  in  sculpture,  and 
public  games  and  contests  were  celebrated,  in  which  supreme 
physical  perfection  was  crowned  by  an  assembled  people.  Ir\ 
no  other  period  of  the  world's  history  was  the  admii-ation 
of  beauty  in  all  its  forms  so  passionate  or  so  universal.  It 
coloured  the  whole  moi-al  teaching  of  the  time,  and  led  the 
chief  moi^alists  to  regard  virtue  simply  as  the  highest  kind 
of  supersensual  beauty.  It  appeared  in  all  literature,  where 
the  beauty  of  form  and  style  was  the  first  of  studies.  It 
supplied  at  once  the  inspiration  and  the  rule  of  all  Gi-eek 
art.  It  led  the  Greek  wife  to  pray,  before  all  other  prayers, 
for  the  beauty  of  her  children.  It  surrounded  the  most 
beautiful  with,  an  aureole  of  admiring  reverence.  The 
courtesan  was  often  the  queen  of  beauty.  She  was  the 
model  of  the  statues  of  Aphrodite,  that  commanded  the 
admiration  of  Greece.  Praxiteles  was  accustomed  to  repro- 
duce the  form  of  Phryne,  and  her  statue,  carved  in  gold, 
stood  in  the  temple  of  Apollo  at  Delphi ;  and  when  she  was 
accused  of  coi'rupting  the  youth  of  Athens,  her  advocate, 
Hyperides,  procured  her  acquittal  by  suddenly  unveiling  her 
charms  before  the  dazzled  eyes  of  the  assembled  judges. 
Apelles  was  at  once  the  painter  and  the  lover  of  Lais,  and 
Alexandei  gave  him,  as  the  choicest  gift,  his  own  favourite 
concubine,  of  whom  the  painter  had  become  enamom-ed 
while  pourtraying  her.  The  chief  flowor-painter  of  antiquity 
acquired  his  skill  through  his  love  of  the  ilower-girl  Glycera, 
whom  he  was  accustomed  to  paint  among  her  gai-lands. 
Pindar  and  Simonides  sang  the  praises  of  courtesans,  and 


rem  fixcrcere,'  on  account  of  the     Z,aCiw(?, 'vcneror  ;' also  LaMothel» 
devotions  in  the  temple  of  Venus.     Vayor,  Lett  re  xc. 
Bee  Vobsius,  Etpnologiccn  Lingnce 


rilE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  293 

gi*ave  philosophers  made  pilgrimages  to  visit  them,  and  theii 
names  were  known  in  every  city. ' 

It  is  not  surprising  that,  in  such  a  state  of  thought  and 
feeling,  many  of  the  more  ambitious  and  accomplished  women 
should  have  betaken  themselves  to  this  career,  nor  yet  that 
they  should  have  attained   the   social   position   which   the 
Becluded  existence  and  the  enforced  ignorance  of  the  Gi-eek 
wires  had  left  vacant.      The  courtesan  was   the   one   free 
woman  of  Athens,  and  she  often  availed  herself  of  her  free- 
dom to  acquire  a  degree  of  knowledge  which  enabled  her  to 
add  to  her  other  charms  an  intense  intellectual  fascination. 
Gathering  around  her  the  most  brilliant  artists,  poets,  liis- 
torians,  and  philosophers,  she  flung  herself  unreservedly  into 
the  intellectual  and  aesthetic  enthusiasms  of  her  time,  and 
soon  became  the  centre  of  a  literary  society  of  matchless 
splendour.     Aspasia,  who  was  as  famous  for  her  genius  as 
for  her  beauty,  won  the  passionate  love  of  Pericles.     She  is 
said  to  have  instructed  him  in  eloquence,  and  to  have  com- 
posed some  of  his  most  famous  orations ;  she  was  continually 
consulted  on  aiTairs  of  state ;  and  Socrates,  Kke  other  philo- 
sophers,  attended    her   assemblies.       Socrates    himself    has 
owned  his  deep  obligations  to  the  instructions  of  a  courtesan 
named  Diotima.     The  courtesan  Leontium  was  among  the 
most  ardent  disciples  of  Epicurus.^ 

Another  cause  probably  contributed  indii'ectly  to  the 
elevation  of  tliis  class,  to  which  it  is  extremely  difficult  to 
allude  in  an  English  book,  but  which  it  is  impossible  alto- 


'  On    the    connection    of    tho  Thilosophancm  (Lugduni,  mdxc); 

courtesans  with  the  artistic  enthu-  also  Ilainnoville,  La  Fannie  dam 

BJaem,  see  Raoul  Rochetto,  Cours  I'Anliquite,^.  244.  At  a  much  Inter 

d' ArchMogie,  pp.  278  279.      See,  date  Lucian  described  tho  beauty, 

too,    Athenaeus,   xiii.    69;    Pliny,  accomplishments,  generosity,  and 

Hist.  Nat.  XXXV.  40.  even    modesty,     of     Panthea     of 

*  See   the    very    curious    little  Smyrna,  the  fa  vourito  mi  stress  o/ 

work oiMkifif^e,  Historia Mulicrtuti  Lucius  Virus. 

51 


294 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORAL:^. 


getlier  to  omit,  even  in  the  most  cursory  survey  oi'  Greek 
moials.  Irregular  female  connections  were  looked  upon  as 
ordinary  and  not  disgraceful  incidents  in  the  life  of  a  good 
man,  for  they  were  compared  with  that  lower  abyss  of 
unnatural  love,  which  was  the  deejiest  and  strangest  taint  of 
Greek  civilisiition.  This  vice,  which  never  appears  in  tho 
'.vritings  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  doubtless  arose  under  the 
influence  of  the  public  games,  which,  accustoming  men  to  the 
contemplation  of  absolutely  nude  figures,'  awoke  an  unnatui-al 
passion,^  totally  remote  from  all  modern  feelings,  but  which 
in.  Greece  it  was  regarded  as  heroic  to  resist.-"^  Tiic  popular 
religion  in  this,  as  in  other  cases,  was  made  to  bend  to  the 
new  vice.  He))e,  the  cup-bearer  of  the  gods,  was  replaced 
by  Ganymede,  and  the  worst  vices  of  earth  were  tiimsported 
to  Olympus.'*     Ai-tists  sought  to  reflect  the  ])assiou  in  their 


'  The  01X0,  which wasatfirstin 
uso.  was  discarded  by  the  L:\ced8e- 
monians,  and  afrerwurds  by  the 
other  Greeks.  There  are  three 
curious  memoirs  tracing  the  hi.st'iry 
of  the  change,  by  M.  liuretlo,  in 
tlie  Hi.it.  de  I' Academic  roi/ale  dcs 
Inscriptions,  tome  i. 

*  On  the  causes  of  paidcrasti.i 
in  Greece,  see  the  remarks  of  Mr. 
•  Irote  in  the  review  of  tlie  Si/rtipo- 
siiim,  in  his  great  work  on  Plato. 
Tlie  whole  subject  is  very  ably 
treated  by  M.  Maury,  Hist,  des 
Ikliffions  de  la  Grice  antiqite,  tome 
iii.  pp.  35-39.  Many  facts  con- 
nected with  it  are  collected  bylJiil- 
liuf^er,  in  \\\a  J<w  and  G entile, 'axxA 
oy  Chateaubriand,  in  his  l^tudes 
'lisloriques.  The  chief  original 
authority  is  tho  thirteenth  book  of 
.\iiiiiiaiis,  a  book  of  very  painful 
intereht  in  (lie  history  of  morals. 

'  J  liitarch,  in  his  Life  of  Agesi- 
laus,  dwells  on  the  intense  self- 
coiitrol   nianifefcted  by    that    great 


man,  in  refraining  from  gratifying 
a  passion  he  had  conceived  for  a 
boy  named  Megabetes,  and  Maxi- 
mus  Tyriussays  it  deserved  greater 
praise  than  the  heroism  of  I^eonidas. 
{Diss.yixx.)  Diogenes  Laertins,  in 
his  Life  of  Zeno,  the  founder  of 
Stoicism,  the  most  austere  of  all 
ancient  sects,  praises  that  philo- 
sopher for  being  but  little  addict)  d 
to  this  vice.  Sophocles  is  said  to 
liavo  been  much  addicted  to  it. 

*  Some  examples  of  tho  a.scrip- 
tion  of  this  vice  to  tho  divinities 
are  given  by  Clem.  Alex.  Admonitio 
ad  Goites.  Soer.ite.s  is  said  to  have 
niaintaiiiol  that  .Jupiter  loved 
Ganymede  for  his  wisdom,  as  hia 
jiame  is  derived  from  ydfu/iai  .-md 
firiSos,  to  1)0  delighted  with  pru- 
dence. (Xenophon,  Bavqnct.)  'J'he 
disaster  of  Caiin«  was  a.scribed  to 
the  jealousy  of  Juno  because  a 
beautiful  boy  was  iiitrotlneod  into 
the  temple  of  Jupiter.  (Lactantiis, 
hist.  Uiv.  ii.  17.) 


TIIH    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.'  295 

Statute  of  the  Hermaphrodite,  of  Bacchus,  and  the  more 
effeminate  Apollo ;  moralists  were  known  to  praise  it  as  the 
bond  of  friendship,  and  it  was  spoken  of  as  the  inspiiing 
enthusiasm  of  the  heroic  Theban  legion  of  Epaminondas.' 
In  general,  however,  it  was  stigmatised  as  unquestionably  a 
vice,  but  it  was  treated  with  a  levity  we  can  now  hardly 
conceive.  We  can  scarcely  have  a  better  illustration  of  the 
extent  to  which  moral  ideas  and  feelings  have  changed,  than 
the  fact  that  the  first  two  Greeks  who  were  considered  worthy 
of  statues  by  their  fellow-countrymen  are  said  to  have  been 
Harmodius  and  Aristogeiton,  who  were  united  by  an  impiu-e 
love,  and  who  were  glorified  for  a  political  assassination.  2 

It  is  probable  that  this  cause  conspired  with  the  othei-s  to 
dissociate  the  class  of  courtesans  from  the  idea  of  supreme 
depravity  with  which  they  ha^-e  usually  been  connected. 
The  great  majority,  however,  were  sunk  in  this,  as  in  all 
other  ages,  in  abject  degradation  f  comparatively  few  attained 
the  condition  of  hetserae,  and  even  of  these  it  is  probable  that 
the  gi-eater  number  exhibited  the  characteristics  which  in 
all  ases  have  attached  to  their  class.  Faithlessness,  extreme 
rapacity,  and  extravagant  luxury,  were  common  among 
thera;  but  yet  it  is  unquestionable  that  there  were  many 
exceptions.  The  excommunication  of  society  did  not  pi-e^s 
upon  or  degrade  them ;  and  though  they  were  never  regarded 
with  the  same  honoiu-  as  mariied  women,  it  seems  generally 
to  have  been  believed  that  the  wife  and  the  courtesan  had 
each  her  place  and  her  function  in  the  world,  and  her  own 
peculiar  type  of  excellence.  The  courtesan  Lea?na,  who  was 
a  friend  of  Harmodius,  died  in  torture  rather  than  i-eveal 


'  Athenseus,  siii.  78.     Sep,  too,  Dialogues  of  Liician  on  the  coiir- 

tlie  very  revolting  book  on  different  tcsans.      See,    too,    Terence,     'Ihe 

kinds  of  love,  ascribed  (it  is  said  Eunnch,  act  v.  scene  4,  which  is 

falsely)  to  Lucian.  copied  from  the  Greek.     The  ma- 

2  JPliny,  Hist.  Nat.  xxxiv.  9.  jority  of  the  class  were  not  called 

•  There  is   ample    evidence  of  betserse,  but  iropiat. 
this    in    Atbenaeus,    and    in    the 


296  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  conspiracy  of  lier  friend,  and  the  Athenians,  in  allusion 
to  her  name,  caused  the  statue  of  a  tongueless  lioness  to  be 
erected  to  commemorate  her  constancy.^  The  gentle  manners 
and  disinterested  affection  of  a  covirtesan  named  Bacchia 
were  especially  recorded,  and  a  very  touching  letter  paints 
her  chai-acter,  and  describes  the  regret  that  followed  her  to 
the  tomb.^  In  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his  pictures  of 
Greek  life,  Xenophon  describes  how  Socrates,  having  heard 
of  the  beauty  of  the  courtesan  Theodota,  went  with  his 
disciples  to  ascertain  for  himself  whether  the  report  was 
true ;  how  with  a  quiet  humour  he  questioned  her  about  the 
soiu-ces  of  the  luxury  of  her  dwelling,  and  how  he  proceeded 
to  sketch  for  her  the  qualities  she  should  cultivate  in  order 
to  attach  her  lovers.  She  ought,  he  tells  her,  to  shut  the 
door  against  the  insolent,  to  watch  her  lovers  in  sickness,  to 
rejoice  greatly  when  they  succeed  in  anything  honoirrable, 
to  love  tenderly  those  who  love  her.  Having  carried  on  a 
cheerful  and  perfectly  unemban-assed  conversation  with  her, 
with  no  kind  of  reproach  on  his  part,  cither  expressed  or 
implied,  and  with  no  trace  either  of  the  timidity  or  effrontery 
of  conscious  guilt  upon  hers,  the  best  and  wisest  of  the  Greeks 
left  his  hostess  with  a  graceful  compliment  to  her  beauty.^ 

My  task  in  describing  this  aspect  of  Greek  life  lias  been 
an  eminently  unpleasing  one,  and  I  should  certainly  not 
have  entered  upon  even  the  baldest  and  most  guarded 
disquisition  on  a  subject  so  difficult,  painful,  and  delicate, 
had  it  not  been  absolutely  indispensable  to  a  history  of 
morals  to  give  at  least  an  outline  of  the  pi'ogi'esa  that  has 

'Plutarch,      De     Gcrrnlifd/e ;  tlio  letters  of  Alcipliron,  especially 

riin.  Hist.^'at.  xxxiv.  19.  Tlin  font  tlie  very  toiicliiiig  ]fttcr(x.)  on  het 

of  biting  cut  their  tongues  riiihur  death,  describing  her  kindness  and 

than   reveal   secrets,    or   j'iekl    to  disinterestedness.     Atheti8eu8(xiii. 

passion,  is  eiscribod  to  a  suspiciously  66)  rchitns  a  curious  anecdote  illuii- 

largo  numlier  of  persons.     Menngo  trating   these  aspects  of  her  cha« 

cites   five  besides  Ijctena.      {/luif.  rai-ter. 
Mulier.  Philos.  pp.  lOt-lOS.)  *  Xonoplion,  Mcmorab.  iii.  11, 

-  See,  upon  Bacchis,  several  of 


THE    POSITION    OF    AVOMEN.  297 

been  effected  in  this  sphere.  ^Vliat  I  have  written  will 
sufficiently  explain  why  Greece,  which  was  fertile,  beyond  all 
other  lands,  in  great  men,  was  so  remarkably  barren  of 
gieat  women.  It  will  show,  too,  that  while  the  Greek 
moralists  recognised,  like  ourselves,  the  distinction  between 
the  higher  and  the  loM'er  sides  of  our  natui-e,  they  difiered 
very  widely  from  modern  public  opinion  in  the  standard  of 
morals  they  enforced.  The  Chiistian  doctrine,  that  it  is 
criminal  to  gi'atify  a  powerful  and  a  transient  physical  appe- 
tite, except  under  the  condition  of  a  lifelong  contract,  was 
altogether  unknown.  Strict  duties  were  imposed  upon  Gi'eek 
wives.  Duties  were  imposed  at  a  later  period,  though  less 
strictly,  upon  the  husband.  Unnatural  love  was  stigmatised, 
but  with  a  levity  of  censure  which  to  a  modem  mind  appears 
inexpressibly  revolting.  Some  slight  legal  disqualifications 
rested  upon  the  whole  class  of  hetferae,  and,  though  more 
admired,  they  were  less  respected  than  women  who  had 
adopted  a  domestic  life  ;  but  a  combination  of  circumstances 
had  raised  them,  in  actual  worth  and  in  popular  estimation, 
to  an  miexampled  elevation,  and  an  aversion  to  marriage 
became  very  general,  and  extra-matrimonial  connections 
were  formed  with  the  most  pei-fect  frankness  and  pubhcity. 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  Roman  civilisation,  we  shall  find 
that  some  important  advances  had  been  made  in  the  condition 
of  women.  The  vii*tue  of  chastity  has,  as  I  have  shown, 
been  regarded  in  two  different  ways.  The  utilitarian  view, 
which  commonly  px-evails  in  countries  where  a  political 
spii'it  is  more  powerful  than  a  religious  spii-it,  regards 
marriage  as  the  ideal  state,  and  to  promote  the  hajipiness, 
sanctity,  and  security  of  this  state  is  the  main  object  of  all  its 
precepts.  The  mystical  view  which  rests  u])ou  the  natural 
feeling  of  shame,  and  which,  as  history  proves,  has  prevailed 
('Si)ecially  where  political  sentiment  is  very  low,  and  religious 
sentiment  very  strong,  regards  virginity  as  its  supreme  type, 
nd  marriage  as  simply  the  most  pardonaVile  declension  from 


298  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

ideal  purity.  It  is,  I  think,  a  very  remarkable  fact,  that  at 
the  head  of  the  religious  system  of  Rome  we  find  two  s;icer- 
dotal  bodies  which  appear  respectively  to  t}^)ify  these  ideas. 
The  Flamens  of  Jupiter  and  the  Vestal  Yii-gins  were  the  two 
most  sacred  orders  in  Rome.  The  ministrations  of  each  were 
believed  to  be  vitally  important  to  the  State.  Each  coidd 
ofliciate  only  within  the  walls  of  Rome.  Each  was  appointed 
with  the  most  imposing  ceremonies.  Each  was  honoured  with 
the  most  profound  reverence.  But  in  one  important  respect 
they  differed.  The  Yestal  was  the  type  of  virginity,  and 
her  purity  was  guarded  by  the  most  terrific  penalties.  The 
Flamen,  on  the  other  hand,  was  the  representative  of  Roman 
marriage  in  its  strictest  and  holiest  form.  He  was  necessarily 
married.  HLs  marriage  was  celebrated  with  the  most  solemn 
rites.  It  could  only  be  dissolved  by  death.  If  his  wife  died, 
he  was  deijraded  from  his  office.' 

Of  these  two  orders,  there  can  Ije  no  question  that  the 
Flamen  was  the  most  faithful  expression  of  the  Roman  sen- 
timents. The  Roman  religion  was  essentially  domestic,  and 
it  was  a  main  object  of  the  legislator  to  surround  marriage 
with  every  circumstance  of  dignity  and  solemnity.  Monogamy 
was,  from  the  earliest  times,  strictly  enjoined ;  and  it  was 
one  of  the  great  benefits  that  have  resulted  from  the 
expansion  of  Roman  power,  that  it  made  this  type  dominant 
in  Europe.  In  the  legends  of  early  Rome  we  have  ample 
evidence  both  of  the  high  moral  estimate  of  women,  and 
of  their  prominence  in  Roman  life.  The  tragedies  of  Lucretia 
an  J  of  Virginia  display  a  delicacy  of  honour,  a  sense  of  the 
supreme  excellence  of  unsullied  purity,  which  no  Christian 
nation  could  surpass.  The  legends  of  the  Sabine  women 
interceding  between  their  parents  aud  their  husbands,  and 
thus  saving  the  infant  republic,  aud  of  the  mother  of  Coriolanua 


'  On  tho  Flamens,  see  Aulus  Gell.  Nod.  x.  16. 


THE    rO.SlTION    OF    WOMEN.  299 

averting  by  her  prayers  the  mm  impending  over  her 
country,  entitled  women  to  claim  theii*  share  in  the  patriotic 
glories  of  Rome.  A  temple  of  Venus  Calva  was  *?sociatefI 
with  the  legend  of  Roman  ladies,  who,  in  an  hour  of  danger, 
cut  off  their  long  tresses  to  make  bowstrings  for  the  soldieis.' 
Another  temple  preserved  to  all  posterity  the  memory  of  the 
filial  piety  of  that  Roman  woman  who,  when  her  mother  was 
condemned  to  be  starved  to  death,  obtained  permission  to 
visit  her  in  her  prison,  and  was  discovered  feeding  her  from  her 
bi'east.^ 

The  legal  position,  however,  of  the  Roman  wife  was  for 
a  long  period  extremely  low.  The  Roman  family  was  con- 
stituted on  the  principle  of  the  uncontrolled  authority  of  its 
head,  both  over  his  wife  and  over  his  children,  and  he  could 
repudiate  the  former  at  will.  Neither  the  custom  of  gifts  to 
the  father  of  the  bride,  nor  the  custom  of  dowi-ies,  appears  to 
have  existed  in  the  earliest  period  of  Roman  history ;  but 
the  father  disposed  absolutely  of  the  hand  of  his  daughter, 
and  sometimes  even  possessed  the  power  of  breaking  oti 
maniages  that  had  been  actually  contracted."*  In  the 
forms  of  marriage,  however,  which  were  usual  in  the 
earlier  periods  of  Rome,  the  absolute  power  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  husband,  and  he  had  the  right,  in 
some  cases,  of  putting  her  to  death.'*  Law  and  public  opiuiiju 
combined  in  making  matrimonial  purity  most  strict.     For 


'  CdpltoVmns, MaTiini>n<s.7unio):  first  legal  act  (which  was  rather  f  f 

^  Pliny,     Bi^t.    Nat.    vii.     36.  the  iiaturo  of  an  exhortation  than 

There    is   (as   is   well    known)    a  of    a    command)    against    it  -was 

(jiniilar  legend  of  a  dau^jhter  thus  issued   by   Antoninus  Pius,  and  it 

feeding   her   father.       Val.    Max.  was  only  definitely  abolished  under 

Lib.  V.  cap.  4.  Diocletian.  (Laboulaye,  Rcchcrclna 

'  This  appears  from    the   first  sur  la  condition  civUe  et  politiqut 

act  of  the  6'</e/i«5  of  PlautTis.    The  dcs  fennnrs,  \)p.  16-17.) 

power  appears  to  have  become  quite  *  Aul.  Gell.  yoct.  x.  23. 
obsolete  during  the  Empire  ;but  the 


300  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

five  Jaundi-ed  and  twenty  years,  it  was  said,  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  a  divorce  in  Rome.'  INIanners  were  so  severe, 
that  a  senator  was  censiu-ed  for  indecency  because  lie  had 
kissed  his  wife  in  the  presence  of  their  daughter.^  It  was 
considered  in  a  high  degi-ee  disgraceful  for  a  Roman  mother 
to  delegate  to  a  nurse  the  duty  of  suckling  her  child.  ^ 
Sumptuary  laws  regulated  with  the  most  minute  severity  all 
the  details  of  domestic  economy.'*  The  courtesan  class, 
vhough  probably  numerous  and  certainly  uncontrolled,  were 
regarded  with  much  contempt.  The  disgrace  of  pubUcly 
professing  themselves  members  of  it  was  believed  to  be  a 
sufficient  punishment;-''  and  an  old  law,  which  was  probably 
intended  to  teach  in  symbol  the  duties  of  married  life, 
enjoined  that  no  such  person  should  touch  the  altar  of  Juno.* 
It  was  related  of  a  certain  ajdUe,  that  he  failed  to  obtain 
redi'ess  for  an  assault  which  had  been  made  upon  him,  because 
it  had  occurred  in  a  bouse  of  ill-fame,  in  which  it  was  dis- 
graceful for  a  Roman  magistrate  to  be  found. ^  The  sanctity 
of  female  pmity  was  believed  to  be  attested  by  all  nature. 
The  most-  savage  animals  became  tame  before  a  -virgin.* 
When  a  woman  walked  naked  round  a  field,  ciiterpillars  and 
all  loathsome  insects  fell  dead  before  her.^  It  w.is  said  that 
drowned  men  floated  on  their  backs,  and  drowned  women  on 
theii-  faces ;  and  tliis,  in  the  opinion  of  Roman  naturalists, 
was  due  to  the  superior  purity  of  the  latter.'^ 


'  Val.  Maximus,  ii.  1 ,  §  4  ;  Aul.  '  Ibid.  iv.  ]  4. 

flellius,  Noct.  iv.  3.  *  Tho   well-known  sufierstitioi 

■■  Ammianus  Marcellinu8,xxviii.  about  the  lion,  &e.,  becoming  dociie 

t  before  a  virgin  is,  I  believe,  as  old 

*  Tiicitas,  De  Ora/orihus,x\\\u.  as  Roman  times.  8t.  Isidore 
'  See  AulusGeliiiis,  i\'of^  ii.  24.  mentions  that  rhinoceroses  were 
•'More    inter  veteres  recepto,  said    to    be    captured     by    young 

(|ui  satis  poenarum  adversum  impu-  girls    being   put    in    their  way   to 

dicas    in    ipsa    profcssione    flagitii  fascinate  them.     (Legendro,  Traiti 

credebant.' — Tacitus,  Ayuinl.  ii.  85.  dc  I'Opinion,  tome  ii.  p.  3o.) 

•  Aul.  Gell.  IV.  3.  Juno  wae  the  "  Pliny,  Hisl.  Nat.  xxviii.  23. 
goddess  of  marriage.                                  '*  Ibid.  vii.  18. 


THK   POSITION    OF   WOMEN.  301 

It  "Was  a  remark  of  Aristotle,  that  the  siiperioiity  of  the 
Greeks  to  the  barbarians  was  shown,  among  other  things, 
in  the  fact  that  the  Greeks  did  not,  like  other  nations,  regard 
their  wives  as  slaves,  but  treated  them  as  helpmates  and 
companions.  A  Roman  writer  has  appealed,  on  the  whole 
»rith  greater  justice,  to  the  treatment  of  wives  by  his  fellow- 
countrymen,  as  a  proof  of  the  superiority  of  Eoman  to  Greek 
civilisation.  He  has  observed  that  while  the  Greeks  kept 
their  mves  in  a  special  quaiter  in  the  intei-ior  of  their  houses, 
and  never  permitted  them  to  sit  at  banquets  except  wdth 
their  relatives,  or  to  see  any  male  except  in  the  presence  of  a 
relative,  no  Roman  ever  hesitated  to  lead  his  wife  wicli  him 
to  the  feast,  or  to  place  the  mother  of  the  family  at  the  head 
of  his  table.'  "Whether,  in  the  period  when  wives  weie 
completely  subject  to  the  rule  of  their  husbands,  much 
domestic  oppression  occurred,  it  is  now  impossible  to  say. 
A  temple  dedicated  to  a  goddess  named  Vii-iplaca,  whose 
mission  was  to  appease  husbands,  was  woi-sliipped  by  Roman 
women  on  the  Palatine  ;2  and  a  strange  and  improbable,  if  not 
incredible  story,  is  related  by  Livy,  of  the  discovery  during 
the  Republic,  of  a  vast  conspii'acy  by  Roman  "wives  to  poison 
theii'  husbands.^  On  the  whole,  however,  it  is  probable  that 
the  Roman  matron  was  from  the  eai-liest  pei-iod  a  name  of 
honour;*  that  the  beautiful  sentence  of  a  jurisconsult  of  the 
Empire,  who  defined  marriage  as  a  lifelong  fellowship  of  all 
di\dne   and   human  rights,'    expressed    most   fiiithfully   the 


' 'Quern enimRomanorumpudet  pinqua   cognatione    conjunctus.' — 

Bxorem  diicero  in  convivium  ?  aut  Ccrn.  Nepos.  pnefat. 

cujus    matorfamilias    nnn    primum  '•*  Val.  Max.  ii.  I,  §  6. 

locum  tenet  aediuni,  atque  in  ce!e-  ^  Liv.  viii.  18. 

Iritate  versatur?    quod  multo   fit  *  See  Val.  IMax.  ii.  1. 

aliter  in  Graecia.     Nam  neque  in  *' Nuptia;  sunt  conjunctio  mans 

convivium   adhibetur,  nisi  propin-  et    femina?,  et    consortium    omnia 

quorum,  neque  sedet  nisi  in  interiore  vitae,  divini  et  luimani  juris  codv 

parte  medium  qxixgi/v<scontis  appel-  municatio.' — Mcdestinua 
latur    nuo  nemo  accedit,  nisi  oro- 


302  IIISTOUY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

feelings  of  the  people,  and  that  female  virtue  had   in  every 
age  a  considerable  place  in  Eoman  biographies.' 

I  have  already  enumerated  the  chief  causes  of  that 
complete  dissolution  of  Roman  morals  whicli  began  shortly 
after  the  Punic  wars,  which  contributed  very  lai-gely  to  the 
destruction  of  the  Republic,  and  which  attained  its  climax 
vmder  the  Caesars.  There  are  few  examples  in  history  of  a 
revolution  pervading  so  completely  every  sphere  of  religioiis, 
domestic,  social,  and  political  life.  Philosophical  scepticism 
corroded  the  ancient  religions.  An  inundation  of  Eastern 
luxurv  and  Eastern  morals  submerged  all  the  old  habits  of 
austere  simplicity.  The  civil  wai's  and  the  Empii-e  degi-aded 
the  chai-acter  of  the  people,  and  the  exaggei-ated  prudery  of 
republican  mannei-s  only  served  to  make  the  rebound  into 
vice  the  more  irresistible.  In  the  fierce  outburst  of  un- 
governable and  almost  fiantic  depravity  that  marked  tliia 
evil  period,  the  violations  of  female  virtue  were  infamously 
prominent.  The  vast  multiplication  of  slaves,  which  is  in 
every  age  pcculiai-ly  fatal  to  moi-al  jjurity  ;  the  fact  that  a 
great  proportion  of  those  slaves  were  chosen  fi'om  the  most 
voluptuous  provinces  of  the  Empii-e  ;  the  games  of  Flora,  in 
which  races  of  naked  coiutesans  were  exhibited  ;  the  panto- 
mimes, which  derived  their  charms  chiefly  from  the  audacious 
indecencies  of  the  actoi-s ;  the  influx  of  the  Greek  and  Asiatic 
hetaerae  wlio  were  attracted  by  the  wealth  of  tlie  metropolis  ; 
the  licentious  paintings  which  began  to  adorn  every  house  \ 
the  rise  of  Baia',  which  rivalled  the  luxury  and  surpassed  the 
beauty  of  the  chief  centres  of  Asiatic  vice,  combining  with 
the  intoxication  of  great  wealth  suddenly  acquired,  with  the 
disruption,  through  many  causes,  of  all  the  ancient  habits  and 
beliefs,  and  with  the  tendency  to  pleasure  which  the  closing 
of  the  paths  of  honourable  politicjil  ambition  by  the  imperi:jl 


'  Livy,  xxxiv.  5.     There    is  a     Greek)  in  Clem.  Alexmiil.  S/roiik 
line  collection  of  legends  or  his-     iv.  19. 
lories  of  heroic  women  (but  chiefly 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  303 

despotism,  naturally  produced,  had  all  their  part  in  pre- 
paring those  orgies  of  vice  which  the  wiiters  of  the  Empire 
reveal.  Most  scholai-s  will,  I  suppose,  retain  a  vivid  re- 
collection of  the  new  insight  into  the  extent  and  wildness  of 
human  guilt  which  they  obtained  when  they  first  opened  the 
pages  of  Suetonius  or  Lampridias;  and  the  sixth  Satire  of 
.Juvenal  paints  with  a  fierce  energy,  though  probably  with 
the  natural  exaggei-ation  of  a  satuist,  the  extent  to  which 
corruption  had  spread  among  the  women.  It  was  found 
necessary,  under  Tiberius,  to  make  a  special  law  prohibiting 
members  of  noble  houses  from  eni-oUing  themselves  as  prosti- 
tutes.' The  extreme  coarseness  of  the  Eoman  disposition 
prevented  sensuality  from  assuming  that  aesthetic  character 
which  had  made  it  in  Greece  the  parent  of  Art,  and  had 
very  profoundly  modified  its  influence,  while  the  passion  for 
gladiatorial  shows  often  allied  it  somewhat  unnaturally  with 
cruelty.  There  have  certainly  been  many  periods  in  history 
when  virtue  was  more  rare  than  under  the  Ciesars ;  but  there 
has  probably  never  been  a  period  when  vice  was  more 
extravagant  or  uncontrolled.  Yoimg  emperors  especially, 
who  were  suri'ounded  by  swarms  of  sycophants  and  panders, 
and  who  often  lived  in  continual  dread  of  assassination, 
plunged  with  the  most  reckless  and  feverish  excitement  into 
every  variety  of  abnormal  lust.  The  reticence  which  has 
always  more  or  less  characterised  modem  society  and  modern 
writers  was  unknown,  and  the  unblushing,  undisguised 
obscenity  of  the  Epigrams  of  Martial,  of  the  Komances  of 
Apvdeius  and  Potronius,  and  of  some  of  the  Dialogues  of 
Lucian,  reflected  but  too  faithfully  the  spirit  of  their  time. 

There  had  arisen,  too,  partly  through  vicious  causes,  and 
partly,  I  suppose,  through  the  unfavourable  influence  which 
the  attraction  of  the  public  institutions  exercised  on  domestic 


'  Tacitus,  Artnal.  ii.  80.     This     lady  named  Vislilia  having  so  eu 
decree  was  on  account  of  a  patrician     rolled  iiurself. 


304  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

life,  a  gieat  and  general  indisposition  towards  mariiaga, 
which  Augustus  attempted  in  vain  to  arrest  by  his  lawa 
against  celil)acy,  and  by  conferring  many  privileges  on 
the  fathers  of  thi-ee  children.^  A  singularly  cuiious  speech 
is  preserved,  which  is  said  to  have  been  delivered  on  this 
subject,  sliortly  before  the  close  of  the  Republic,  by  Metellus 
Numidicus,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  overcome  this  indispo- 
Hition.  '  If,  Romans,'  he  said,  *  we  could  live  without  wives^ 
we  should  all  keep  free  from  that  source  of  trouble;  biit since 
nature  has  ordained  that  men  can  neither  live  sufficiently 
agreeably  with  wives,  nor  at  fill  without  them,  let  us  consider 
the  pei-petual  endurance  of  our  race  rather  than  our  own 
brief  enjoyment.'^ 

In  the  midst  of  this  torrent  of  corruption  a  great  change 
was  passing  over  the  legal  position  of  Roman  women.  They 
had  at  first  been  in  a  condition  of  absolute  subjection  or 
subordination  to  their  relations.  They  arrived,  during  the 
Empire,  at  a  point  of  Cfeedom  and  dignity  which  they  sub- 
sequently lost,  and  have  never  altogether  regained.  The 
Romans  recognised  two  distinct  classes  of  marriages : 
the  stricter,  and,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  more  honourable, 
forms,  which  placed  the  woman  '  in  the  hand '  of  her  husband 
and  gave  him  an  almost  absolute  authority  over  her  person 
and   her  property ;  and   a  less  strict  form,   which  left  her 


'  J/ion  Cassius,  liv.  16,  Ivi.  10.  able  to  tell  tiic  whole  truth.     .Sto- 

* '  Si     sine     uxore    possomus,  baeus  {Sententice)  has  preserved  a 

Quirites,  esse,  omnes   ea  m  jlestia  number  of  harsh  and  often  licart- 

careremus  ;  sed  quoniam  ita  natiira  less  .sayings  about  wives,  that  were 

tradidit,  ut  nee  cum  illis  satis  com-  popular  among  tJie  Greeks.    It  was 

mode  nee  sine  illis   uUo  modo  vivi  a  saymirof  a  (ireik  poet,  that 'niai- 

possit,  saluti  perpctiuE  potiusrpiaiii  riage  brings  only  tw()  liappy  days 

tjrevi     voluptati     consulendum.' —  — the  day  when   the  husband  first 

Aulus  Gellius,  Noct.  i.  6.     Some  of  clasps  his  wife  to  liis  breast,  and 

the  audience,  we  are  told,  thought  the  day  when   he  lays  lior  in  the 

Ui'it,  in    exhorting  to  matrimony,  tomb; 'and   in  IJome  it   became  a 

the  speaker  should  liavo  concealed  proverbial  sayinL',  that  a  wifj  was 

Its  undoubted  evils.  It  was  decided,  only  good  'in   thalumo  vel   in  tu- 

however,  that  it  was  more  honour-  mule' 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  305 

legal  position  unchanged.  The  former,  which  were  general 
dnring  the  Republic,  were  of  three  kinds — the  '  confarreatio,' 
which  was  celebrated  and  could  only  be  dissolved  by  Ihe  most 
solemn  religious  ceremonies,  and  was  jealously  restricted  to 
patricians;  the  'coemptio,'  which  was  purely  civil,  and 
derived  its  name  from  a  symbolical  sale;  and  the  'usus,' 
which  was  eflected  by  the  mere  cohabitation  of  a  woman  with 
a  man  without  interruption  for  the  space  of  a  year.  Unde^ 
the  Empire,  however,  these  kinds  of  mariiage  became 
almost  wholly  obsolete ;  a  laxer  form,  resting  upon  a  simple 
mutual  agi-eement,  without  any  religious  or  civil  ceremony, 
was  general,  and  it  had  this  very  important  consequence, 
that  the  woman  so  married  remained,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law, 
in.  the  family  of  her  father,  and  was  under  his  guardianship, 
not  under  the  guai-dianship  of  her  husband.  But  the  old 
patria  potestns  had  become  completely  obsolete,  and  the 
practical  effect  of  the  general  adoption  of  this  form  of  mar- 
riage was  the  absolute  legal  independence  of  the  wife.  With 
the  exception  of  her  dowry,  which  passed  into  the  hands  of 
her  husband,  she  held  her  property  in  her  own  right ;  she 
inherited  her  share  of  the  wealth  of  her  father,  and  she 
retained  it  altogether  independently  of  her  husband.  A  veiy 
considerable  portion  of  Roman  wealth  thus  passed  into  tho 
uncontroll(!d  possession  of  women.  The  private  man  of 
business  of  the  wife  was  a  favourite  character  with  the 
comedians,  and  the  tyranny  exercised  by  rich  wives  over 
theii*  husbands — to  whom  it  is  said  tliey  sometimes  lent 
money  at  high  interest — a  continual  theme  of  satirists.' 

A  complete  revolution  had  thus  passed  over  tlie  conati- 


'  Friedlandcr,  Hhf.  dcs  Mceurs  initlior  is   particuliirly  valu.ible  in 

romaincs,  tome  i.  pp.  360-364.    Oa  all   that  relates  to  the  history  of 

the   great   influence    exercised    h\  domestic  morals.     Ihe  Asinaria  of 

Roman  ladies  on    political  aiFairs  Plaiitus,  and  .some  of  the  epigrams 

Borne  remarkal)le  passages  are  col-  of  Martial,  throw  much  light  upviu 

lected   in   Denis,    Hist,   des    Idees  this  subject. 
Morales,  tome  ii.  pp.  98-99.     This 


306  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

tution  of  the  family.  Instead  of  being  constructed  on  the 
principle  of  antocracy,  it  was  consti-ucted  on  the  principle  of 
coequal  partnership.  The  legal  position  of  the  wife  had 
become  one  of  com])lete  independence,  wliile  her  social 
position  was  one  of  great  dignity.  The  more  conservative 
spirits  were  naturally  alarmed  at  the  change,  and  t\vo 
measures  were  taken  to  arrest  it.  The  Oppian  law  was 
designed  to  restrain  the  luxury  of  women ;  but,  in  spite  of 
the  strenuous  exertions  of  Cato,  this  law  was  speedily  re- 
pealed. '  A  more  important  measure  was  the  Voconian  law, 
which  restricted  within  veiy  narrow  limits  the  jiroperty 
which  women  might  inherit;  but  public  opinion  never  fully 
acquiesced  in  it,  and  by  several  legal  subterfuges  its  operation 
was  partially  evaded.^ 

Another  and  a  still  more  important  consequence  resulted 
from  the  changed  form  of  marriage.  Being  looked  upon 
merely  as  a  civil  contract,  entered  into  for  the  happiness  of 
the  contracting  parties,  its  continuance  depended  upon 
mutual  consent.  Either  party  might  dissolve  it  at  will,  and 
the  dissolution  gave  both  i>arties  a  right  to  remarry.  There 
•can  be  no  question  that  under  this  system  the  obligntions  of 
maniage  were  treated  with  extreme  levity.  We  find  Cicero 
repudiating  his  wife  Tei-entia,  because  he  desired  a  new 
dowry  ;^  Augustus  compelling  the  husband  of  Livia  to  re- 
pudiate her  when  she  was  already  pregnant,  that  he  might 
marry  her  himself;  *  Cato  ceding  his  wife,  with  the  consent 
of  her  father,  to  his  friend  Hortensius,  and  resuming  her 


'  See  the  very  reraarkalile  flis-  ignoro.' — St.  Aug.  De  Civ.  Dei,  iii. 

cussion  about  this  repeal  in  Livy,  21     a  euriou.s  illiistratiun   of  tlio 

lib.  xxxiv.  cap,  1-8.  difference    between    the   habits   of 

*  Legouv^,    Ilist.    Morale    des  thought  of  his  time  and  those  of 

Fcmmcs,  pp.  23-2G.    8t.  Augustine  the  iiiiddlo  ages,  when  daughterg 

donounced  this  law  as  the  most  un-  were  habitually  sacrificed,  witt out 

just   that   could    be    mentioned  or  a  protest,  by  the  feudal  laws. 
even    conceived.     'Qua    lege  quid  '  I'lutarch,  Cicero. 

iniquiiis   dici   /.ut  cogitari    possit,  *  Tacit.  .(4««.  i.  10, 


THE   POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  307 

after  his  death ; '  JVIsecenas  continually  changing  In?  wife  ;  ' 
Sempronius  Sophus  repudiating  his  wife,  because  she  had 
ouce  been  to  the  public  games  without  his  knowledge;  ^ 
Paulus  -(Emilius  taking  the  same  step  without  assigning  any 
reason,  and  defending  himself  by  saying,  '  My  shoes  are  new 
and  well  made,  but  no  one  knows  where  they  pinch  me.'-* 
Kor  did  women  show  less  alaciity  in  repudiating  their 
husbands.  Seneca  denounced  this  evil  with  especial 
vehemence,  declaring  that  divorce  in  Rome  no  longer  brought 
with  it  any  shame,  and  that  there  were  women  who  I'eckoned 
theii'  years  rather  by  their  husbands  than  by  the  consuls.* 
Christians  and  Pagans  echoed  the  same  complaint.  Ac- 
cording to  Tertulhan,  '  divorce  is  the  fruit  of  mamage.'^ 
Martial  speaks  of  a  woman  who  had  already  arrived  at  her 
tenth  husband ;  ~  Juvenal,  of  a  woman  having  eight  husbands 
in  five  years.®  But  the  most  extraordinary  recorded  instance 
of  this  kind  is  related  by  St.  Jerome,  w^ho  assures  us  that 
there  existed  at  Rome  a  wife  who  was  married  to  her  twenty- 
third  husband,  she  herself  being  his  twenty-first  wife.^ 

These  ai-e,  no  doubt,  extreme  cases  ;  but  it  is  unquestion- 
able that  the  stability  of  married  life  was  very  seriously 
impaii-ed.  It  would  be  easy,  however,  to  exaggerate  the 
influence  of  legal  changes  in  aflecting  it.  In  a  purer  state  of 
public  oj)inion  a  veiy  wide  latitude  of  divorce  might  probably 
have  been  allowed  to  both  parties,  without  any  serious  con- 
sequence. The  right  of  repudiation,  which  the  husband  had 
always  possessed,  was,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  Republic 
never  or  very  rarely  exercised.  Of  those  who  scandalised 
good  men  by  the  rapid  recurrence  of  their  marriages,  probably 

'Plutarch,  Cato;  Liioan,  Phar-  *  Sen.  Le  Bcrtef.  iii.  16.     See 
»«/•  ii-                                                      too,  Ep.  xev.  Ad  Hclv.  xvi. 

-  Senec.  Ep.  cxiv.  «  Apol.  6. 

=■  Val.  Max.  vi.  3.  '  Epij.  vi.  7. 

♦  Plutarch,  Paul.  Mmil.     It  is  »  Juv.  Sat.  vi.  230. 

flot  quite  clear  whether  this  remark  *  Ep.  2. 
»as  made  by  Paulus  himself. 


508  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

most,  if  maniage  had  been  indissoluble,  would  have  refrained 
from  entering  into  it,  and  would  have  contented  themselves 
with  many  infonnal  connections,  or,  if  they  had  married, 
would  have  giatified  theii'  love  of  change  by  simple  adultery. 
A.  vast  wave  of  corruption  had  flowed  in  upon  Rome,  and 
under  any  system  of  law  it  would  have  peneti-ated  into 
domestic  life.  Laws  prohibiting  all  divorce  have  never 
secured  the  purity  of  married  life  in  ages  of  gi-eat  corruption, 
nor  did  the  latitude  which  was  accorded  in  imperial  Rome 
prevent  the  existence  of  a  very  large  amount  of  female 
vii'tue. 

I  have  observed,  in  a  former  chapter,  that  the  moral 
contrasts  shown  in  ancient  life  surpass  those  of  modem 
societies,  in  which  we  very  rarely  find  clusters  of  heroic  or 
illustrious  men  arising  in  nations  that  are  in  general  vciy 
ignorant  or  veiy  corrupt.  I  have  endeavoured  to  account 
for  this  fact  by  showing  that  the  moral  agencies  of  antiquity 
were  in  general  much  more  fitted  to  develop  virtue  than  to 
repress  vice,  and  that  they  raised  noble  natures  to  almost  the 
highest  conceivable  point  of  excellence,  while  they  entirely 
failed  to  coerce  or  to  attenuate  the  corruption  of  the  depraved. 
In  the  female  life  of  Imperial  Rome  we  find  these  contrasts 
vividly  displayed.  There  can  be  no  question  that  the  moral 
tone  of  the  sex  was  extremely  low — lower,  probably,  than 
in  France  under  the  Regency,  or  in  England  under  the 
Restoration — and  it  is  also  certain  that  frightful  excesses  of 
unnatural  passion,  of  which  the  most  corrupt  of  modem 
courts  present  no  parallel,  were  perpetrated  with  but  little 
concealment  on  the  Palatine.  Yet  there  is  probably  no 
period  in  which  examples  of  conjugal  heroism  and  fidelity 
appear  more  fre^jueutly  than  in  this  very  age,  in  which 
man-iage  was  most  free  and  in  wliich  corruption  was  so 
general.  Much  simplicity  of  manners  continued  to  co-exist 
with  the  excesses  of  an  almost  unbridled  luxury.  Augustus, 
we  are  told,  used  to  make  his  daughters  and  granddaughters 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  309 

'iftt&ye  and  spin,  and  his  wife  and  sister  made  most  of  the 
clothes  he  wore.'     The  skill  of  wives  in  domestic  economy, 
and  especially  in  spinning,  was  frequently  noticed  in  their 
epitaphs. 2     Intellectual  cultm-e   was   much  diffused   among 
them,^  and  we  meet  with  several  noble  specimens,  in  the  sex, 
of  large  and  accomplished  minds  united  with  all  the  graceful 
ncss  of  intense  womanhood,  and  all  the  fidelity  of  the  truest 
love.     Such  wei-e  Cornelia,  the  brilliant  and  devoted  wife  of 
Pompey/  INfarcia,  the   friend,  and   Helvia,  the   mother   of 
Seneca.     The  Northern  Italian  cities  had  in  a  gi-eat  degree 
escaped   the   contamination   of  the   times,  and   Padua  and 
Brescia  were  especially  noted  for  the  virtue  of  their  women.* 
In  an  age  of  extravagant  sensuality   a  noble  lady,   named 
Mallonia,  plunged  her  dagger  in  her  heart  rather  than  yield 
to  the  embraces  of  Tiberius.^     To  the  period  when  the  legal 
bond  of  marriage  was  most  relaxed  must  be  assigned  most  of 
those  noble  examples  of  the  constancy   of  Roman   wives, 
wldch  have  been  for   so  many  generations  household  tales 
amona:  mankind.     Who  has  not  read  with  emotion  of  the 
tenderness  and  heroism  of  Porcia,  claiming  her  right  to  sharp 
in  the  trouble   which   clouded   her   husband's   brow;  how, 
doubting   her   own   courage,    she   did   not   venture   to   ask 
Brutus  to  reveal  to  her  his  enterprise  till  she  had  secretly 
tried  her  power  of  endurance  by  piercing  her  thigh  with  a 
knife;  how   once,  and  but  once  in  his  presence,  her  noble 
spirit  failed,  when,  as  she  was  about  to  separate  from  him 
for  the  last  time,  her  eye  chanced  to  fall  upon  a  picture  of 
the  parting  interview  of  Hector  and  Andromache  ] '  Paulina, 


'  Suetoa.  Ai<g.      Charlemagne,  *  Much  evHdenco  of  this  is  Col- 
in like  manner,  made  his  daughters  lected  by  Friedlauder,  tome  i.  pp 
^-ork  iu  wool.     (Egiuhardus,  Fit.  387-395. 
Car.  Mag.  xix.)  *  Plutarch,  Tompeius. 

*  Friediander,  Mceurs  romaines  *  Martial,  xi.  16.     Pliny,  Ep.  i 

du  regne  d'Auguste   a   la  fin  des  11. 
Antonins  (trad,  francj.),  tome  i.  p.  *  Suet  Tiberins,  xlv. 

^14.  '  Plutarch,  Brv(u». 

62 


510  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORAI^. 

the  wife  of  Seneca,  o{.enecl  her  own  veins  in  order  to 
accompany  her  hnsband  to  the  grave ;  when  much  bloocl 
had  alieady  flowed,  her  slaves  and  freedmen  bound  her 
wonnds,  and  thus  compelled  her  to  live ;  but  the  Romans 
ever  after  observed  with  reverence  the  sacred  pallor  of 
her  countenance — the  memorial  of  her  act.'  When  Paetus 
was  condemned  to  die  by  his  owti  hand,  those  who  knew  the 
love  ■which,  his  wife  Arria  bore  him,  and  the  heroic  feiTOur 
of  her  character,  predicted  that  she  would  not  long  survive 
him.  Thrasea,  who  had  mamed  her  daughter,  endeavoured 
to  dissuade  her  from  suicide  by  saying,  '  If  I  am  ever  called 
upon  io  peiish,  would  you  wish  your  daughter  to  die  with 
me?'  She  answered,  'Yes,  if  she  will  have  then  lived  with 
you  as  long  and  as  happily  as  I  "with  Partus.'  Her  friends 
attempted,  l>y  carefully  watching  her,  to  secure  her  safety, 
but  she  dashed  her  head  against  the  wall  with  such  force  that 
she  fell  upon  the  groimd,  and  then,  rising  up,  she  said,  '  I 
told  you  I  would  find  a  hard  way  to  death  if  you  refuse  me 
an  easy  way.'  All  attempts  to  restrain  her  wei-e  then 
abandoned,  and  her  death  was  peihaps  the  most  majestic  in 
antiquity.  Partus  for  a  moment  hesitated  to  strike  the  fat;\l 
blow;  but  liis  wife,  taking  the  dagger,  plunged  it  deeply 
into  her  own  breast,  and  then,  drawing  it  out,  gave  it,  all 
i-eeking  as  it  was,  to  her  husband,  exc'aiming,  with  her 
dying  breath,  '  My  Partus,  it  does  liot  pain.'- 

The  form  of  the  elder  An-ia  towei-s  grand'y  above  her 
fellows,  but  many  other  Poman  wives  in  the  days  of  the 
early  Caisars  and  of  Domitian  exhibited  a  very  similar  fidelity. 
Over  the  dark  watei-s  of  the  Euxine,  into  those  unknown 
and  inhospitable  regions  from  which  the  Koman  imagination 
recoiled  with  a  peculiar  hon-or,  many  noble  ladies  freely 
followed  their  husbands,   and  there  were  some  wives   who 


'  Tanif.  Annal.  xv.  63,  64.  iii.  16 ;  Martkl,  Ep.  i.  14. 

»  •  Paete,  non  dolot.'— Plin.  Ep. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  311 

refused  to  sui-\ive  them.'  Tlie  younger  Airia  was  the  faith- 
ful companion  of  Thrasea  during  his  heroic  life,  and  when  ho 
died  she  was  only  pei-sviaded  to  live  that  slie  might  bring  up 
their  daughtei's.'^  She  spent  the  closing  days  of  her  life  with 
Domitian  in  exile ;  ^  while  her  daughter,  who  was  as  remark- 
able for  the  gentleness  as  for  the  dignity  of  her  character,^ 
went  twice  into  exile  with  her  husband  Helvidius,  and  wavS 
once  banished,  after  his  death,  for  defending  his  memory.^ 
Incidental  notices  in  historians,  and  a  few  inscriptions  which 
have  happened  to  remain,  show  us  that  such  instances  were 
not  uncommon,  and  in  Roman  epitaphs  no  feature  is  more 
remarkable  than  the  deep  and  passionate  ex])ressions  of  con- 
jugal love  that  continually  occur.^  It  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  more  touching  image  of  that  love,  than  the  medallion 
which  is  so  common  on  the  Roman  sarcophagi,  in  which 
husband  and  wife  are  represented  together,  each  with  an  aim 
throwTi  fondly  over  the  shoulder  of  the  other,  united  in  death 
as  they  had  been  in  life,  and  meeting  it  with  an  aspect  of 
perfect  calm,  because  they  were  companions  in  the  tomb. 

In  the  latter  days  of  the  Pagan  Empire  some  measures 
were  taken  to  repress  the  profligacy  that  was  so  prevalent. 
Domitian  enforced  the  old  Scantinian  law  against  unnatural 
love.''  Yespasian  moderated  the  luxuiy  of  the  court ; 
Macrinus  caused  those  who  had  committed  adultery  to  be 
bound  together  and  burnt  alive.®  A  practice  of  men  and 
women  bathing  together  was  condemned  by  Hadrian,  and 
afterwai-ds  by  Alexander  Seveinis,  but  was  only  finally  sup- 


'  Tacit.    An)wf.     xvi.     10-11;  » See  Plin.  Ep.  vii.  19.     Dion 

Hisi.  i.  3.     See,   too,   Friedlander,  CmssIus     nrid    Tacitus    reliito    tlio 

lome  i.  p.  406.  exiks  of  ilt-lvidius,   M'bo   appears 

■•'  Tacit.  Ann.  xvi.  34.  to  have  been  rather    intemperate 

•  Pliny    mentions    her    return  and  unreasonable. 

after  the  death  of  the  tyrant  {Kp.  *  Friedlander  gives  many  and 

iii.  11).  most  touching  examples,  tome  i.pp 

*  'Quod  paucis  datum  est,  non  410-414. 

minus  ani;ibilis  quam  veneranda.'  '  Suet.  Dodi.  viii. 

—Plin.  Ej).  vii.  19.  '  Capitolinus,  Macrinus 


312  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

pressed  by  Constantine.  Alexander  Severus  and  Philip 
waged  an  energetic  war  against  panders.'  The  extreme 
excesses  of  this,  as  of  most  forms  of  vice,  were  probablj 
much  diminished  after  the  accession  of  the  Antonines ;  but 
Rome  continued  to  be  a  centre  of  very  great  corruption  till 
(he  influence  of  Christianity,  the  removal  of  the  court  to 
Constantinople,  and  the  impoverishment  that  followed  tl  e 
barbarian  conqviests,  in  a  measure  con-ected  the  evU. 

Among  the  moralists,  however,  some  important  step3 
were  taken.  One  of  the  most  important  was  a  very  clear 
assertion  of  the  reciprocity  of  that  obligation  to  fidelity  in 
marriage  which  in  the  early  stages  of  society  had  been  im- 
posed almost  exclusively  upon  wives.'^  The  legends  of 
Clytemnestra  and  of  Medea  reveal  the  feelings  of  fierce 
resentment  which  were  sometimes  produced  among  Greek 
wives  by  the  almost  unlimited  indulgence  that  was  accorded 
to  their  husbands;^  and  it  is  told  of  Andi-omache,  as  the 
supreme  instance  of  her  love  of  Hector,  that  she  cared  for  his 
illegitimate  children  as  much  as  for  her  own.'*  In  early 
liome,  the  obligations  of  husbands  were  never,  I  imagine, 
altogether  unfelt ;  but  they  were  rarely  or  never  enforced, 
nor  were  they  ever  regarded  as  bearing  any  kind  of  eqiuility 
to  those  imposed  upon  the  wife.  The  term  adulteiy,  and  all 
the  legal  penalties  connected  with  it,  were  restricted  to  the 
infractions  by  a  wife  of  the  nuptial  tie.  Among  the  many 
instances  of  magnanimity  recorded  of  Roman  wives,  few  are 
more  touching  than  that  of  Tertia  ^^]milia,  the  faitliful  wife 
of  8cipio.      She  discovered  that  her  husband  had  become 

'  lyampridius,  A.  Severus.  legitimate  children,  and  to  be  our 

'  In  tlie  oration  against  Neaer.i,  faithlul  huusekcepcrs.' 
wliich  is  ascril)e4  to  Demosthenes,  '  There  is  a  ninarkablo  passage 

but  is  of  doubtful  genuineness,  the  on  the  feelings  of  wives,  in  differ- 

licenee  accorded   to   husbands    is  ent    nations,   upon    this  point,  in 

spoken  of  as  a  matter  of  course:  Athenaeus,  xiii.  3.     See,  too,  l'lu« 

'  We  keep  mistresses  for  our  plea-  tiirch,  Conj.  Frac. 
•iirfs,  concubines  for  constant  at-  *  Enripid.  Andromache. 

\eudiinc6.   and   wives   to   bear   u8 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  313 

esidmoured  of  one  of  her  slaves ;  but  she  bore  her  pain  in 
silence,  and  when  ho  died  she  gave  liberty  to  her  captive,  for 
she  could  not  bear  that  she  should  remain  in  servitude  whom 
her  dear  lord  had  loved.' 

Aristotle  had  clearly  asserted  the  duty  of  husbands  to  ob- 
serve in  marriage  the  same  fidelity  as  they  expected  from  theii 
v'ives,2  and  at  a  later  period  both  Plutarch  and  Seneca  enforced 
this  duty  in  the  strongest  and  most  unequivocal  manner.^ 
The  degree  to  which,  in  theory  at  least,  it  won  its  way  in 
"Roman  life  is  shown  by  its  recognition  as  a  legal  maxim  by 
LTlpian,^  and  by  its  appearance  in  a  formal  judgment  of 
Antoninus  Pius,  who,  while  issuing,  at  the  request  of  a 
husband,  a  condemnation  for  adultery  against  a  guUty  wife, 
appended  to  it  this  remarkable  condition  :  '  Provided  always 
it  is  established  that  by  your  life  you  gave  her  an  example  of 
fidelity.  It  would  be  unjust  that  a  husband  should  exact  a 
fidelity  he  does  not  himself  keep.'  ^ 

'  Valer.  Max.  vi.  7,  §  1-     Some  on   the   subject:  'Scis  improbura 

very  scandalous  instances  of  cyni-  esse  qui  ab  uyorepudicitiani  exigit, 

cism  on  the  part  of  Koman  hus-  ipse  alienarum  corruptor  uxorum. 

bands  are  recorded.  Thus,  Augustus  !^ois  ut   illi   nil  cum  adultero,  sic 

had  many  mistresses,  '  Q,use   [vir-  nihil  tibi  esse  debere  cum  pellice.' 

gines]  sibi  undique  etiam  a6 '«a,-orc  — Ep.    xciv.      'Sciet    in    uxorem 

eonquirerentur.' — Sueton. Jjiijr.lxxi.  gravissimum    esse    genus    injuriae. 

When  the  wife  of  Verus,  tli'e  col-  habere  pellicem.' — Ep.  xcv. 

league  of   Marcus  Aurelius,  com-  ■•    'Periiiii|uum     enim    videtur 

plainedof  the  tastes  of  her  husband,  esse,  ut   pudicitiam  vir   ab  uxore 

he  answered,  'Uxor  euim  dignitatis  exigat,  quam  ipse  uon  exhibeat.' — • 

nomen  est,  non  voluptatis.'— Spar-  Cod.  Just.  Dig.  xlviii.  5-13. 

tian.  Verus.  *  Quoted  by  St.  Augustine,  Be 

*  Aristotle,  Econom.  i.  4-8-9.  Conj.  Adult,  ii.   19.     PUutus,  long 

■  Plutarch  enforces  the  duty  at  before,  had  made  one  of  his  charac- 

length,  in   his  very  beautiful  work  ters  couiplain  of   the    injustice  of 

on  marriage.     In  case  husbands  are  the  laws  which  puuisiicd  unchaste 

guilty  of  infidelity,  ho  recommends  wives  but  not  uncliasto   husbands, 

their  wives  to  preserve  a  prudent  and   ask  why,  since  every  honest 

blindness,  reflecting  that  it  is  out  woman  is  contented  with  one  hu9- 

of  respect  for  them  that  they  choose  Laud,  every  honest  man  should  not 

another  w<>man  as  the  companion  bo  contented  with  one  wife?  (A/tr- 

of    their    intemperance.       Seneca  cator,  Act  iv.  scene  5.) 
touches  br.efly,  but  unequivocally, 


314  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

Another  change,  which  may  be  dimly  descried  iu  tlie 
later  Pagan  society,  was  a  tendency  to  regard  purity  rather 
in  a  mystical  point  of  view,  as  essentially  good,  than  in  the 
utilitarian  point  of  view.  This  change  resulted  chiefly  from 
the  rise  of  the  Neoplatonic  and  Pythagorean  philosophies, 
which  concurred  in  regarding  the  body,  with  its  passions,  as 
essentially  evil,  and  in  representing  all  virtue  as  a  purifica- 
tion from  its  taint.  Its  most  important  consequence  was  a 
somewhat  stricter  view  of  pre-nuptial  unchastity,  which  in 
the  case  of  men,  and  when  it  was  not  excessive,  and  did  not 
take  the  form  of  adultery,  had  pi-eviously  been  uncensured, 
or  was  looked  upon  with  a  disapprobation  so  slight  as 
scarcely  to  amount  to  censure.  The  elder  Cato  had  ex- 
pressly justified  it;'  and  Cicero  has  left  us  an  extremely 
curious  judgment  on  the  subject,  which  shows  at  a  glance 
the  feelings  of  the  people,  and  the  vast  revolution  that, 
under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  has  been  effected  in,  at 
least,  the  professions  of  mankind.  '  If  there  be  any  one,'  he 
says,  *  who  thinks  that  young  men  should  be  altogether  re- 
strained from  the  love  of  coui-tesans,  he  is  indeed  veiy 
severe.  I  am  not  prepared  to  deny  his  position ;  but  he 
diffei-s  not  only  from  the  licence  of  our  age,  but  also  from  the 
customs  and  allowances  of  oiw  ancestors.  \Ylien,  indeed, 
was  tliis  not  done  1  "When  was  it  blamed  1  W^ien  was  it 
not  allowed?  When  was  that  which  is  now  lawful  not 
lawful  ? '  2  Epictetus,  who  on  most  subjects  was  among  the 
most  austeie  of  the  Stoics,  recommends  his  disciples  to  ab- 

'  Horace,  Sat.  i.  2.  perniissum?     Qiinndo  denique  fuit 

^  '  \'crum  si  qiiis  est  qui  etiam  ut  quod  licet  non  iicoret?  ' — Cicero, 

ripretriciis   anioribiis    inturJictuni  I'ro   Ccelio,  cap.    xx.      Tlio  -whole 

juveiituti    putet,    est   illo    quidem  speech  is  well  wortliy  of  the  alten- 

vnlde  severus ;  negaro  non  poss-um ;  tion  of  those  -who  would  understand 

Bed  abhorret  non  niodo   ab  hujus  Roman  feelings  on  these  matters; 

Keeuli  licentia,  verum  etiam  a  ma-  but  it  should   bo  remembered  thai 

jorum  consuetudine  atque  concessis.  it  is  the  speech  of  a  lawyer  defeni 

Quando  enim  hoc  factum  non  est?  ing  a  dissolute  client. 
Quandoreprehensum?  Quando  nc-n 


THE    POSITION    OF    -WOMEN.  315 

stain,  '  as  far  as  2:)ossible,'  from  pre-nuptial  connections,  and 
at  least  from  those  wliich  were  adulterous  and  unlawful,  but 
not  to  blame  those  who  were  less  strict.'  The  feeling  of  the 
Romans  is  curiously  exemplified  in  the  life  of  Alexandei- 
Severus,  who,  of  all  the  em^Tcrors,  was  probably  the  most 
energetic  iu  legislating  against  vice.  When  appointing  a 
provincial  governor,  he  was  accustomed  to  provide  him  with 
horses  and  servants,  and,  if  he  was  unmarried,  with  a  con- 
cubine, *  because,'  as  the  historian  very  gi-avel}^  observes,  '  it 
was  impossible  that  he  could  exist  without  one.'  ^ 

What  was  written  among  the  Pagans  in  opposition  t^ 
these  views  was  not  much,  but  it  is  worthy  of  notice,  as 
illustrating  the  tendency  that  had  arisen.  IMusonius  Rufus 
distinctly  and  emphatically  assei-ted  that  no  union  of  the 
sexes  other  than  marriage  was  permissible.'  Dion  Chrysos 
tom  desired  prostitution  to  be  suppressed  by  law.  The 
ascetic  notion  of  the  impurity  even  of  marriage  may  be 
faintly  ti  iced.  Apollonius  of  Tyana  lived,  on  this  ground, 
a  life  oi  celibacy.''  Zenobia  refused  to  cohabit  with  her 
husband  except  so  far  as  was  necessary  for  the  production  of 
Hn  heir'  Hypatia  is  said,  like  many  Christian  saints,  to 
nave  maintained  the  position  of  a  virgin  wife.^     The  belief 


'  -I  /  A(ppo^i(Tta,  els  Stjvaixiv  irpb  becanse  her  son  formed  a  corinec- 

/dfiot,    luJapevrioi/.       awroixevcfi  5f,  tion  ■with  Psyclie.    {Mctam.  lib.  v.) 

ill/  vofitfiAi/    6(TTi,  /ieToA.7j7rT€oc,   |U7)  '  Presei'vcd    by  St^ba-us.     Sco 

utfTOL  iiraxOiisyivovrots  xP'^t'-^t'Ois,  Denis,  Hist,  dcs  Idhs  morales  dans 

ur)5e  iKcyKTiKos,  fiTiSeiroWaxov  t6,  r Antiquite,  tome  ii.  pp.    134-136, 

'Ot«   ainhs  ou  XPV' ''^"■P'^'P^P^- — ^'^'  l^O— loO. 

c/iir.  xxxi'u.  *  Tlnlos.  A pol.  i.  13.     "When  a 

*  '  El  si   uxores  non  haberetit,  8;iyin<?  of  Pythagoras,  '  tliat  a  m;iu 

singulas  coiicubinas,  quod  sine  his  s^hould  only  have  commerce  with 

esse  non  possent.' — Lampridius,  A.  his  own  wife,'  was  quoted,  lie  said 

Severus.      We    have    an   amusing  tliat  this  concerned  others, 

picture   of  the   common    tone    of  '  Trebellius  PoUio,  Zcnohia. 

people  of  the  world  on  this  matter,  °  This  is  asserted  by  an  anony- 

in   the  speech  Apuleius  puts  into  mous  writer  quoted  by  Suidns.  See 

:;he  mouth  of  the  gods,  rcmonstrat-  Menage,    Hist.   Muliirum  Philosr- 

ing  with  Venus   for  being  angry  pharuin,  p.  68. 


31b  HISTORY    OF   EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

in  tlie  impurity  of  all  corporeal  things,  and  in  the  dutj 
of  rising  above  them,  was  in  the  third  century  strenu- 
ously enforced.'  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Julian  were  both 
admirable  representatives  of  the  best  Pagan  spiiit  of  their 
time.  Each  of  them  lost  his  wife  early,  each  was  eulogised 
by  his  biographer  for  the  virtue  he  manifested  after  her 
death ;  but  there  is  a  ciu'ious  and  characteristic  difference  in 
the  forms  which  that  virtue  assumed.  Mai-cus  Aurelius,  we 
are  told,  did  not  wish  to  bring  into  his  house  a  stepmother  to 
rule  over  his  children,  and  accordingly  took  a  concubine.* 
Julian  ever  after  Kved  in  perfect  continence.^ 

The  foregoing  facts,  wMch  I  have  given  in  the  most  con- 
densed form,  and  almost  unaccompanied  by  criticism  or  by 
comment,  will  be  sufficient,  I  hope,  to  exhibit  the  state  of 
feeling  of  the  Eomans  on  this  subject,  and  also  the  direction 
in  which  that  feeling  was  being  modified.  Those  who  are 
familiar  with  this  order  of  studies  will  readily  understand 
that  it  is  impossible  to  mark  out  with  precision  the  chrono 
logy  of  a  moi-al  sentiment ;  but  there  can  be  no  question  that 
in  the  latter  days  of  the  Roman  Empire  the  pei'ce})tions  of 
men  on  this  subject  became  more  subtle  and  more  refined 
than  they  had  previously  been,  and  it  is  equally  cei'tain  that 
the  Oiiental  pliilosophies  which  had  superseded  Stoicism 
largely  influenced  the  change.  Christianity  soon  constituted 
itself  the  representative  of  the  new  tendency.  It  regarded 
purity  as  the  most  im^jortant  of  all  virtues,  and  it  strauied  to 
the  xrtmost  all  the  vast  agencies  it  possessed,  to  enforce  it. 
In  the  legislation  of  the  fir-st  Christian  emjierors  we  find 
marry  traces  of  a  fici-y  zeal.  Panders  were  condenrned  to 
have  molten  lead  poirr-ed  dowrr  then."  throats.  Iir  the  case  of 
rape,  not  only  the  ravisher,  but  even  the  injured  person,  if 
nhe  consented  to  the  act,  was  put  to  death."*     A  great  service 


'  See,   e.g.,  Plotiiius,    1st   Eun.  '  Amm.  Miircell.  xxv.  4. 

?i.  6.  *  Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  ix.  tit.  24. 

■''  CapitoliuuB,  M.  Aureliua. 


rilE    POSITION    Oh'    WOMEN.  317 

was  done  to  the  cause  both  of  purity  and  of  philanthropy,  by 
a  law  which  permitted  actresses,  on  receiving  baptism,  to 
abandon  their  profession,  which  had  been  made  a  form  of 
slavery,  and  was  vii'tually  a  slavery  to  vice.'  Certain 
musical  gii'ls,  who  were  accustomed  to  sing  or  play  at  the 
banquets  of  the  rich,  and  who  were  regarded  with  extreme 
horror  by  the  Fathers,  were  suppressed,  and  a  very  stringent 
law  forbade  the  revival  of  the  class.  ^ 

Side  by  side  with  the  civil  legislation,  the  penitential 
legislation  of  the  Church  was  exerted  in  the  same  direction. 
Sins  of  unchastity  probably  occupy  a  larger  place  than  any 
others  in  its  enactments.  The  cases  of  unnatural  love,  and  of 
mothers  who  had  made  then-  daughters  courtesans,  were 
punished  by  perpetual  exclusion  from  communion,  and  a 
crowd  of  minor  offences  were  severely  visited.  The  ascetic 
passion  increased  the  prominence  of  this  branch  of  ethics, 
and  the  imaginationg  of  men  were  soon  fascinated  by  the 
pure  and  noble  figures  of  the  virgin  martyrs  of  the  Church, 
who  on  more  than  one  occasion  fully  equalled  the  coiirao-e  of 
men,  while  they  sometimes  mingled  with  then-  heroism  traits 
of  the  most  exquisite  feminine  gentleness.  For  the  patient 
endurance  of  excruciatmg  physical  suffering,  Christianity 
produced  no  more  sublime  figure  than  Blandina,  the  poor 
servant-girl  who  was  martyred  at  Lyons ;  and  it  would  be 
difficult  to  find  in  all  history  a  more  touching  picture  of 
natural  purity  than  is  contained  in  one  simple  incident  of 
the  martyrdom  of  St.  Perpetua.  It  is  related  of  that  saint 
that  she  was  condemned  to  be  slaughtered  by  a  wild  bull, 
and,  as  she  fell  half  dead  from  its  horns  upon  the  sand  of  the 

'  Cod.  Thcod.  lib.  xv.  tit.  7.  — Cod.  Thcad.  xv.  7,  10.  This  curi- 

*  '  Fidiciuam    nulli    liceat    vel  ous  law  was  issued  in  ad.  385.  St. 

emere  vel  docore  vol  vendere,  vel  Jerome  said  tlu-se  musicians  were 

conviviis  axit  spectaculis  adhibere.  the  chorus  of  the  devil,  and  quite 

Nee  cuiquam  aut  delectationis  de-  as  dangerous  a.s  the  sirens      Se« 

eiderio  erudita  feminoa  aut  musicae  the  comments  on  the  law. 
artis  studio  liceat  habere  mancipia.' 


318 


HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 


arena,  it  was  observed  tliat  even  in  that  awful  moment  liei 
vii-gin  modesty  was  supreme,  and  lier  first  instinctive  move- 
ment was  to  di-aw  together  her  dress,  which  had  been  torn 
in  the  assault.^ 

A   (irowd   of  very  ciuioiis   popular   legends  also  arose; 
which,   though    they  are  for  the  most  part  ^Nithout  nnK;li 
intrinsic   excellence,  have    theii-   importance   in  history,  as 
£,howing  the  force  with  which  the  imaginations  of  men  were 
turned  In  this  direction,  and  the  manner  in  which  Christianity 
was  regarded  as  the  great  enemy  of  the  passions  of  tlie  flesh. 
Thus,  St.  Jerome  relates  an  incredible    story    of   a    yoimg 
Christian,  being,  in  the  Diocletian  persecution,  bound  with 
ribands  of  silk  in  the  midst  of  a  lovely  garden,  surrounded 
by  eveiythiag  that  could  charm  the  ear  and  the  eye,  while  a 
beautiful    courtesan   assailed    him  with  her  blandishments, 
against  which  he  protected  himself  by  biting  out  his  tongue 
and  spitting  it  in  lier  face.2     Legends  are  recounted  of  young 


•  Euinart,    Act.    S.   Perpefua. 
These  acts,  are,  I  believe,  generally 
TPgarded   as    authentic.     There  is 
nothing  more  instructive  in  history 
than  to  trace  the  same  moral  feel- 
ings through  different  ages  and  re- 
ligions; and  I  am  able  in  this  case 
to  present  the  reader  witli  an  illus- 
tration of  tlieir  permanence,  which 
I  think  somcwliat  remarkable.  The 
younger  Pliny  gives  in  one  of  his 
letters  a  pafhetic  account  of  tlio 
execution    of    Cornelia,    a   vestal 
virgin,  by  the  order  of  Domitian. 
She  was  buried   alive  for  incest ; 
but  her  innocence  appears  to  have 
been  generally   believed;  and  she 
had  been  condemned  unheard,  and 
in  her  absence.     As  she  was  being 
lowered  into  the  subterranean  cell 
ber  dress  was  caught  and  deranged 
in  tlie  descent.     She  turned  round 
and  drew  it  to  her,  and  wiien  the 
executioner  stretched  out  his  hand 


to  assist  her,  she  started  back  lest 
he  should  touch  her,  for  this,  ac- 
cording to  the  received  opinion,  was 
a  pollution;  and  even  in  the  su- 
preme moment  of  iier  agony  her 
vestal  purity  shrunk  from  the  un- 
holy contact.  (Plin.  Ep.  iv.  11.) 
Jf  we  now  pass  back  several  cen- 
turies, we  find  Euripides  attribut- 
ing to  Polyxena  a  trait  precisely 
similar  to  that  which  was  attri- 
buted to  Perpetua.  As  she  fell 
beneath  the  sword  of  tlie  execu- 
tioner, it  was  observed  that  her 
last  care  was   that  she  might  fall 

witii  decency. 

r)  5e  Koi  Ovr\crKoxi(i  Sjucds 

■KoWvv    vpltvoMV    fix*"    eLi'^X')/*'-^' 

KpvnTova-'   ft  Kpvnrfiv  Sfi^aT    apcif 
vtov  ^pfwv. 

Kuripides,  IIcc.  566  68. 
«  Fita  Pduli. 


Tiir:  rosiTioN  ob'  womkn.  319 

Clu-istian  men  assuming  the  gaib  and  manners  of  libertines, 
that  they  might  obtain  access  to  maidens  who  had  been 
condemned  to  vice,  exchanging  dresses  with  them,  and  thus 
enabling  them  to  escape.^  St.  Agnes  was  said  to  have  been 
stripped  naked  before  the  people,  who  all  turned  away  their 
eyes  except  ons  young  man,  who  instantly  became  blind.^ 
The  sister  of  St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa  was  afflicted  with  a  cancer 
in  her  breast,  but  could  not  bear  that  a  surgeon  should  see  it, 
and  was  rewarded  for  her  modesty  by  a  miraculous  cure.^ 
To  the  fabled  zone  of  beauty  the  Christian  saints  opposed 
their  zones  of  chastity,  which  extingiiished  the  passion  of  the 
wearer,  or  would  only  meet  around  the  pure.^  Daemons 
were  said  not  unfrequently  to  have  entered  into  the  profli- 
gate. The  garment  of  a  girl  who  was  possessed  was  bi'ought 
to  St.  Pachomius,  and  he  discovered  from  it  that  she  had  a 
lover.^  A  couiiesan  accused  St.  Gregory  Thaumaturgus  of 
having  been  her  lover,  and  having  refused  to  pay  her  what 
he  had  promised.  He  paid  the  requii^ed  sum,  but  she  was 
immediately  possessed  by  a  daemon.^  The  effoi-ts  of  the 
saints  to  reclaim  coui-tesans  from  the  path  of  vice  created 


'  St,    Ambrose   relates    an    in-  Fursseiis  a  girdle  that  extinguished 

stance  of  this,  which  he  says  oc-  lust.     (Ibid.   p.  292.)     Tlio  girdle 

curred  at  Antioch  (Be  Virginibus,  of  St.  'J'hoinas   Aquinas  seems    to 

lib.  ii.  cap.  iv.).     When  the  Chris-  have    had    some   miraculous    pro 

tian  youth  was  being  led  to  execu  parties  of  this  kind.  (See  his  Life  in 

tion,  the  girl  whom  he  had  saA'ed  the  Bollandists,  Sept.  29.)    Among 

reappeared    and    died   with   him.  both  the  Greeks  and  Romans  it  w.is 

Eusebius  tells  a  very  similar  story,  cu-tomary  for  the  bride  to  be  girt 

but  places  the  scene  at  xVlexandria.  with  a  girdle  which  the  bridegroom 

^  See  Ceillier,  Htst.  dtS  Autcurs  unloosed   in  the  nuptial  bed,  and 

ec'cUs.  tome  iii.  p.  523.  hence   '  zouam   solvere '   became  a 

'  Ibid,  tome  viii.  pp.  204-207.  proverbial  expression  for  'pudici- 

*  Among   the   Irish   saints  St.  tiam  mulicris  imminuere.'     (Nieu- 

Colman  is  said  to  have  had  a  girdle  poort,  l)e  Ritihus  Iiomaiiortim,  p, 

which  would  only  meet  around  the  479 ;  .Alexander's  Histori/qf  Women, 

thaste,  and  which   was  long  pre-  vol.  ii.  p.  200.) 
served  in  Ireland  as  a  relic  (Colgan,  *  Vit.  St.  Pachom.  (Rosweyde), 

Acta    Sanctorum   Hibtrnice,   Lou-  *  See  his  />'/'',  by  Gregory  of 

vain,  16i5,  vol.  i.  p.  246);  and  St.  Nyssa, 


320  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

»  large  class  of  legends.  St.  Mary  Magdalene,  St.  Mai 7  of 
Egypt,  St.  Afi-a,  St.  Pelagia,  St.  Thais,  and  St.  Theodota,  in 
the  early  Church,  as  well  as  St.  Marguerite  of  Cortona,  and 
Clara  of  Rimini,  in  the  middle  ages,  had  been  courtesans.' 
St.  Vitalius,  it  is  said,  was  accustomed  every  night  to  visit 
the  dens  of  vice  in  his  neighbourhood,  to  give  the  inmates 
money  to  remain  without  sin  for  that  night,  and  to  offer  up 
prayers  for  their  conversion.*  It  is  related  of  St.  Sei-apion, 
that,  as  he  was  passing  through  a  village  in  Egypt,  a  courtesan 
beckoned  to  him.  He  promised  at  a  certain  hour  to  visit 
her.  He  kept  his  appointment,  but  declared  that  there  was 
a  duty  which  his  order  imposed  on  him.  He  fell  down  on 
his  knees  and  began  repeating  the  Psalter,  concluding  every 
psalm  with  a  prayer  for  his  hostess.  The  strangeness  of  the 
scene,  and  the  solemnity  of  his  tone  and  manner,  overawed 
and  fascinated  her.  Gradually  her  tears  began  to  flow. 
She  knelt  beside  him  and  began  to  join  in  his  prayers.  He 
heeded  her  not,  but  hour  after  hour  continued  in  the  same 
stern  and  solemn  voice,  without  rest  and  without  interruption, 
to  repeat  his  alternate  prayers  and  psalms,  till  her  repentance 
i-ose  to  a  paroxysm  of  terror,  and,  as  the  gi'ey  morning 
sti-eaks  began  to  illumine  the  horizon,  she  fell  half  dead  at 
his  feet,  imploring  him  with  broken  sobs  to  lead  her  anywhere 
where  she  might  expiate  the  sins  of  her  past.' 

But  the  services  rendered  by  the  ascetics  in  imprinting 
on  the  minds  of  men  a  profound  and  enduring  conviction  of 
the  importance   of   chastity,  though  extremely  great,  were 


'  A  little  book  has  been  written  gerinan.  tome  ii.  p.  8.) 
on   these   legends   by   M.  Charles  '■'  See  the    Vit.  Sancfi  JoannU 

de    I'ussy,  called   Les   Courtisancs  Elccmoxi^narii  (Kosweyde). 
saintes.     There  is  said  to  be  sonio  *  Tillenioiit,  tome  x.  pp.  01 -C2. 

doubt  about  St.  Afra,  for,  wliile  her  There  is  also  a  very  picturesque 

acts  represent  her  as  a  reformed  legend  of  the  manner  in  which  St. 

cfjurtttsan,  St.  Fortunatus,  in  two  I'aphnutiuscunverted  thecourtesan 

lines  he  has  devoted  to  her,  calls  Thais, 
ber  a  yirgin.      (Ozanam,   £tudca 


THE    rOSITTON    OF    WOMEN.  321 

seriously  counterbalanced  by  their  noxious  influence  upon 
marriage.  Two  or  three  beautiful  descriptions  of  this 
institution  have  been  culled  out  of  the  immense  mass  of  the 
patristic  writings;'  but,  in  general,  it  would  be  difficult  to 
conceive  anything  more  coarse  or  more  repulsive  than  the 
manner  in  which  they  regarded  it.^  The  relation  which 
nature  has  designed  for  the  noble  pui-pose  of  repairing  the 
ravages  of  death,  and  which,  as  Linnajus  has  shown,  extends 
even  through  the  world  of  flowers,  was  invariably  treated  as 
a  consequence  of  the  fall  of  Adam,  and  marriage  was  regarded 
almost  exclusively  in  its  lowest  aspect.  The  tender  love 
which  it  elicits,  the  holy  and  beautiful  domestic  qualities 
that  follow  in  its  ti-ain,  were  almost  absolutely  omitted  from 
consideration.^  The  object  of  the  ascetic  was  to  attract  men 
to  a  life  of  virginity,  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  marriage 
was  treated  as  an  inferior  state.  It  was  resrarded  as  beinc 
necessaiy,  indeed,  and  therefore  justifiable,  for  the  propa- 
gation of  the  species,  and  to  free  men  from  greater  evils  ; 
but  still  as  a  condition  of  degradation  from  which  all  who 
aspired  to  real  sanctity  should  fly.  To  *  cut  down  by  the  axe 
of  Virginity  the  wood  of  Marriage,'  was,  in  the  energetic 
language  of  St.  Jerome,  the  end  of  the  saint ;  *  and  if  he 


'  See  especially,  Tertullian,  Ad  if  ever  (I  cannot  call  to  mind  an 

Uxorem.     It  wms  beautifully  said,  instance),  in  the  discussions  of  the 

at  a  later  period,  that  woman  was  comparative    merits    of    marriage 

not  taken  from  the  head  of  man,  and  celibacy,  the  social  advantages 

for  she  was  not  intended  to  be  his  appear    to    have   occurred    to   the 

rnlcr,  nor  from   his  feet,  for  she  mind It  is  always  argued 

was  not  intended  to  be  his  slave,  with  relation  to  the  interests  and 

but  from  his  side,  for  she  was  to  the   perfection   of    the    individual 

be  his  companion  and  his  comfort,  soul ;  and,  oven  with  regard  to  that, 

(Peter   Lombard,   Sentc7i.   lib.   ii.  the  writers  seem  almost  unconscious 

dis.  18.)  of  the  softening  and  humanising 

*  Tiie  reader  may  find  many  effect  of  the  natural  affections,  the 
passages  on  this  subject  in  Bar-  beauty  of  parental  tenderness  and 
Lj"yrac,  Morale  des  Peres,  ii.  §  7;  filial  love.'  —  Milman's  Uust.  oj 
in.   §  8;    iv.  §  31-35;    vi.  §  31;  Chrisfianify,  vol.  ni.  p.  196. 

tiii.  §  2-8.  *  '  Tempus   breve   est,    et  jam 

*  '  It  is  remarkable  how  rarely,  securis  ad  radices  arborum  posita 


322  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

consfnted    to    praise   marriage,   it   was   merely   because   it 
produced  vii-gLos.'     Even  when  the  bond  had  been  foi'med, 
the  ascetic  passion  retained  its  sting.     We  have  already  seen 
how  it  embittered  other  relations  of  domestic  life.     Into  this, 
the  holiest  of  all,  it  infused  a  tenfold  bitterness.     Whenever 
any  strong  religious  fervoiu"  fell  upon  a  husband  or  a  wife,  its 
first  effect  was  to  make  a  happy  union  impossible.    The  moi'e 
religious  partner  immediately  desired  to  live  a  life  of  solitary 
asceticism,  or  at  least,  if  no  ostensible  separation  took  place, 
an  unnatural  life  of  separation  in  marriage.     The  immense 
place  this  order  of  ideas  occupies  in  the  hortatory  writings  of 
the  Fathers,  and  in  the  legends  of  the  saints,  must  be  familiar 
to   all    who   have    any   knowledge   of    this   deparimcnt   of 
literature.     Thus — to  give   but   a  very  few    examples — St. 
Nilus,  when  he  had  already  two  cliildi-en,  wa.s  seized  with 
p,  longing   for    the  prevailing  asceticism,  and  his  wife  was 
persuaded,  after  many  teal's,  to  consent  to  their  separation.^ 
St.  Ammon,  on  the  night  of  his  marriage,  proceeded  to  greet 
his  bride  with  an  harangue  upon  the  evils  of  the  married 
state,  and  they  agreed,  in  consequence,  at  once  to  separate.^ 
St.   Mdania   laboured    long   and    earnestly   to   induce    her 
husband    to    allow  her    to  desert  his  bed,  before  he  would 
consent.*     St.  Abraham  ran  away  from  his  wife  on  the  night 
of  his  marriage.®     St.  Alexis,  according  to  a  somewhat  later 
legend,  took  the  same  step,  but  many  years  after  returned 
from  Jerusalem  to  his  father's  house,  in  which  his  wife  was 
Btill  lamenting  her  desertion,  begged  and  received  a  lodging 
as   an    act   of    charity,   and   lived   there   um-ecognised   and 
unknown  till  his  death.*     St.  Gregory  of  Nyssa — who  was 


est,  qu<E  silvani  legis  et  nuptianjm  xiii.  p.  147- 

evangelfca  ciistitate  succidat.' — Ep.  "  .'^ocrates,  iv.  23. 

ezxiii.  *  PallafUiis,  Hist.  Laus.  cxix. 

' 'Lauflo   nnptias,    laudo    con-  *  TiA '9.  yl/.ir.( Rosweyde),  cap. i. 

Jucnum,    sed    quia    mihi    virgines  •  I  do  not  know  when  this  legend 

genorant.' — Ep.  xxii.  first  appeared.     M.  Littre  mentioM 

'  See    Ceiilier.   Auteura    eccles.  having  found  it  in  a  French  MS.  of 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  323 

SO  uufortunate  as  to  be  mamed — wrote  a  glowing  eulogy  of 
vii'gimty,  in  the  course  of  which  he  mournfully  observed 
that  this  privileged  state  could  never  be  his.  He  resembled, 
be  assures  us,  an  ox  that  was  ploughing  a  field,  the  fruit  of 
which  he  must  never  enjoy ;  or  a  thirsty  man,  who  was 
gizing  on  a.  stream  of  which  he  never  can  drink ;  or  a  poor 
man,  whose  poverty  seems  the  more  bitter  as  he  contemplates 
the  wealth  of  his  neighbours  ;  and  he  proceeded  to  descant  in 
feeling  terms  upon  the  troubles  of  matrimony.^  Nominal 
marriages,  in  which  the  partners  agi-eed  to  shun  the  man'iage 
bed,  became  not  iincommon.  The  emperor  Henry  II., 
Edward  the  Confessor,  of  England,  and  Alphonso  II.,  of 
Spain,  gave  examples  of  it.  A  very  famous  and  rather 
pictui'esque  histoiy  of  tliis  kind  is  related  by  Gregory  of 
Tours.  A  rich  young  Gaul,  named  Injuriosus,  led  to  his 
home  a  young  bride  to  whom  he  was  passionately  attached. 
That  night,  she  confessed  to  him,  with  tears,  that  she  had 
vowed  to  keep  her  virginity,  and  that  she  regi'etted  bitterly 
the  marriage  into  wliich  her  love  for  liim  had  betrayed  her. 
He  told  her  that  they  should  remain  united,  but  that  she 
should  still  observe  her  vow ;  and  he  fulfilled  his  promise. 
When,  after  several  yeai-s,  she  died,  her  husband,  in  laying 
her  in  the  tomb,  declared,  with  gi-eat  solemnity,  that  he 
restored  her  to  God  as  immaculate  as  he  had  received  her ; 
and  then  a  smile  lit  up  the  face  of  the  dead  woman,  and  she 
said,  '  Why  do  you  tell  that  which  no  one  asked  you  1 ' 
The  husband  soon  afterwAi'ds  died,  and  his  corpse,  wliich  had 
been  laid  in  a  distinct  compartment  fx-om  that  of  his  wife  in 
the  tomb,  was  placed  side  by  side  with  it  by  the  angels.'^ 


ihf  eleventh   centurj'  (Littre,  Les  subterranean  church  of  St.  Clement 

linrhnres,  pp.  123-124) ;  and  it  also  at  Komo.     An  account  nf  it  is  given 

forms  the  subject  of  ;i  very  curiou;?  liy  Father  ISIullooly,  ii\  his  inierest- 

fresco,  I  iiuagine  of  a  somewhat  ing  little  book  about  th.it  Church, 
p.jriior  date,  which  was  discovered,  '  De  Virgin,  cap.  iii. 

wiihin  Ijie  last  few  ye:us.  in  the  '  Grog.  Tur.  .:  t2 


324  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

The  extreme  disorders  which  such  teaching  produced  in 
domestic  life,  and  also  the  extravagances  which  grew  up 
among  some  heretics,  naturally  alarmed  the  more  judicious 
leaders  of  the  Church,  and  it  was  ordained  that  married 
persons  should  not  enter  into  an  ascetic  life,  except  by 
mutual  consent.'  The  ascetic  ideal,  however,  remained 
unchanged.  To  abstain  from  mai-riage,  or  in  marriage  to 
abstain  from  a  perfect  union,  was  regarded  as  a  proof  of 
sanctity,  and  marriage  was  viewed  in  its  coarsest  and  most 
degraded  form.  The  notion  of  its  impurity  took  many 
forms,  and  exercised  for  some  centuries  an  extremely  wide 
influence  over  the  Church.  Thus,  it  was  the  custom  during 
the  middle  ages  to  abstain  from  the  marriage  bed  durinsr  the 
night  after  the  ceremony,  in  honour  of  the  saci-ament.^  It 
was  expressly  enjoined  that  no  married  persons  should  par- 
ticipate in  any  of  the  gi-eat  Church  festivals  if  the  night 
before  they  had  lain  together,  and  St.  Gregory  the  Great 
tells  of  a  young  wife  who  was  possessed  by  a  daemon,  be- 
cause she  had  taken  part  in  a  procession  of  St.  Sebastian, 
without  fulfilling  this  condition.^  The  extent  to  which  the 
feeling  on  the  subject  was  carried  is  shown  by  the  famous 
vision  of  Alberic  in  the  twelfth  century,  in  which  a  special 
place  of  torture,  consisting  of  a  lake  of  minglad  lead,  pitch, 
and  resin  is  represented  as  existing  in  hell  for  the  punish- 
ment of  married  people  who  had  lain  together  on  Church 
festivals  or  fast  days.^ 

Two  other  consequences  of  this  way  of  regarding  marriage 
were  a  very  strong  disapproval  of  second  marriages,  and  a 
very  strong  desire  to  secure  celibacy  in  the  clergy.  The  first 
of  these  notions  had  existed,  though  in  a  very  different  form, 
and  connected  with  very  different  motives,  among  the  early 
R«'jmans,  who  wei-e  accustomed,  we  are  told,  to  honour  with 


'  The  regula  ions  on  this  point  '  St.  Greg.  Dial.  i.  10. 

aro  given  at  length  in  Bingham.  *  Delepierre,  JJEvfer  decnt  pat 

*  Muratori,  Antich.  /<«/.diss.xx.     crux  qui  font  vn,  pp.  44-  f>6. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  323 

the  crown  of  modesty  those  who  were  content  with  one  mar- 
riage, and  to  regard  many  marriages  as  a  sign  of  illegitimate 
intemperance.^  This  opinion  appears  to  have  chiefly  grown 
out  of  a  very  delicate  and  touching  feeling  which  had  taken 
deep  root  in  the  Koman  mind,  that  the  affection  a  wife  owes 
her  husband  is  so  profound  and  so  pui-e  that  it  must  not 
cease  even  with  his  death ;  that  it  should  guide  and  conse- 
crate all  her  subsequent  life,  and  that  it  never  can  be  trans- 
ferred to  another  object.  Virgil,  in  very  beautiful  lines, 
puts  this  sentiment  into  the  mouth  of  Dido ;  ^  and  several 
examples  are  recorded  of  Koman  wives,  sometimes  in  the 
prime  of  youth  and  beauty,  \ipon  the  death  of  their  husbands, 
devotins  the  remainder  of  their  lives  to  retirement  and  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead.^  Tacitus  held  up  the  Germans  as  in 
this  respect  a  model  to  his  countrymen,*  and  the  epithet 
'  univirse  '  inscribed  on  many  Roman  tombs  shows  how  this 
devotion  was  practised  and  valued.^  The  family  of  Camillus 
was  especially  honoured  for  the  absence  of  second  marriages 
among  its  members.^  *  To  love  a  wife  when  living,'  said  one 
of  the  latest  Eoman  poets,  *  is  a  pleasure ;  to  love  her  when 
dead  is  an  act  of  religion.'  ^  In  the  case  of  men,  the  propriety 
of  abstaining  from  second  marriages  was  px'obably  not  felt  so 
strongly  as  in  the  case  of  women,  and  w^hat  feeUng  on  the 
subject  existed  was  chiefly  due  to  another  motive — affection 
for  the  childi-en,  whose  interests,  it  was  thought,  might  be 
injured  by  a  stepmother.^ 


'  V;vl.  Max.  ii.  1.  §  3.  '  '  Uxorem    vivam    amare    vo- 

*  '  lUe  meos,  primus  qui  me  sibi  lupt.is  ; 

Junxit,  amores  JJulunctam  religio.' 

Abstulit ;  ille  habeat  secnm,  Statius.  Si/lv.  v.  in  prooemio. 

bervetque  sepulchro.'  *  By  one  of  the  laws  of  Cha- 

^n.  iv.  28.  rondas  it  was  onlaincd  that  these 

*  E.g.,  the  wives  of  Lucan,  Dm-  who  cared  so  little  for  the  happi- 
Bus.,  and  Pompev.  ness  of  their  children  as  to  place  a 

*  Tacit.  Gir'man.  xix.  stepmother  over  them,  should   be 

*  Friedlander,  tome  i.  p.  41 1.  excluded  from  the  councils  of  the 
0  Hieron.  Ep.  liv.  State.     (Diod.  Sic.  xii.  12.) 

53 


326  HISTORY    OF    EnROPEAN    MORALS. 

The  sentiment  which  thus  recoiled  from  second  marriasjes 
passed  with  a  vastly  increased  strength  into  ascetic  Chris- 
tianity, but  it  was  based  upon  altogether  different  grounds. 
We  find,  in  the  first  place,  that  an  affectionate  remembi"ance 
of  the  husband  had  altogether  vanished  from  the  motives  of  the 
abstinence.  In  the  next  place,  we  may  remark  that  the  ecclesi- 
nstical  writers,  in  perfect  conformity  with  the  extreme  coarse- 
ness of  their  \dews  about  the  sexes,  almost  invariably  assumed 
that  the  motive  to  second  or  third  marriages  must  be  simply 
the  force  of  the  animal  passions.  The  Montanists  and  the 
Novatians  absolutely  condemned  second  marriages.'  The 
orthodox  pronounced  them  lawful,  on  account  of  the  weak- 
ness of  human  nature,  but  they  viewed  them  with  the  most 
emphatic  disapproval, ^  partly  because  they  considered  them 
manifest  signs  of  incontitience,  and  partly  because  they  re- 
garded them  as  inconsistent  with  theii*  doctrine  that  mar- 
riage is  an  emblem  of  the  union  of  Christ  with  the  Church. 
Tlie  language  of  the  Fathers  on  this  subject  appears  to  a 
modern  mind  most  extraordinary,  and,  but  for  their  distinct 
and  reitera^^d  assertion  that  they  considered  these  marriages 
pennissible,^  'vould  appear  to  amount  to  a  peremptoiy  con- 
demnation. Thus— to  give  but  a  few  samples — digamy,  or 
second  marriage,  is  described  by  Athenagora.s  as  '  a  decent 
adultery.'*  '  Fo^-nioation,' according  to  Clement  of  Alexan- 
dria, *  is  a  lapse  from  one  marriage  into  many.'*  '  The  first 
Adam,' said   St.  Jerome  'had  one  wife;  the  second  Adam 


'  Tertnllian      expound^fj      the  thoir    sfrong'est    opponents,   sajs  : 

Monfaiiist   view   in    his    trcM.sf,  'Quid  ifrjiur?  damnanius  secunda 

De  MnntMjamia.  >natrimonia?     JMiiiinie,  sed  prima 

*  A  full  collection  of  tht  s'a'o  laudamus.  Abjicimus  de  eeelcsia 
fnent 8  of  the  Fathers  on  this  snt-  dlgamos?  alsit;  sed  monogamos 
j>ct  is  given  by  Perrone,  Z'c  iVflM-  sd  continonfiam  p-ox'ociin'is.  In 
monin,  \\h.  iii.  Sect.  I. ;  and  lii  ni\-a  Noo  non  .solum  'nnndn  j«>d  <»< 
Nntalis  Alexander,  Hist.  Eccles.  immnnd}*  freniiit  iinima'ia." — Kp 
S*c.  II.  dissert.  18.  cx.\iii. 

*  Thus,  to  give  Imf  a  single  in-  *  In  Tjcaoi. 
(tnnco,  St.  Jerome,  who  was  one  of  *  blrcn.  hi',  iii. 


THE   POSITION    OF    -^'OMEN.  327 

had  no  wife.  They  who  approve  of  digamy  hold  forth  a 
third  Adam,  who  was  twice  married,  whom  they  follow.'  ^ 
'  Consider,'  he  again  says,  '  that  she  who  has  been  twice 
mamed,  though  she  be  an  old,  and  decrepit,  and  poor 
woman,  is  not  deemed  worthy  to  receive  the  charity  of  tlie 
Church.  But  if  the  bread  of  charity  is  taken  from  her,  how 
much  more  that  bread  which  descends  from  heaven ! '  ^ 
'  Digamists,'  according  to  Origen,  '  are  saved  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  but  are  by  no  means  crowned  by  him. '^  '  By  this 
text,'  said  St.  Gregoiy  Nazianzen,  speaking  of  St.  Paul's 
comparison  of  marriage  to  the  union  of  Clirist  with  the 
Chui'ch,  'second  marriages  seem  to  me  to  be  reproved.  If 
there  are  two  Christs  there  may  be  two  husbands  or  two 
wives.  If  there  is  but  one  Christ,  one  Head  of  the  Chiu'ch, 
there  is  but  one  flesh — a  second  is  repelled.  But  if  he  for- 
bids a  second,  what  is  to  be  said  of  tliii-d  marriages  1  The 
first  is  law,  the  second  is  pardon  and  indulgence,  the  third  is 
iniquity ;  but  he  who  exceeds  this  number  is  manifestly 
bestial.'*  The  collective  judgment  of  the  ecclesiastical 
authorities  on  this  subject  is  shown  by  the  rigid  exclusion 
of  digamists  from  the  priesthood,  and  from  all  claim  to  the 
charity  of  the  Chui'ch,  and  by  the  decrees  of  more  than  one 
Council,  which  imposed  a  period  of  penance  upon  all  who 
married  a  second  time,  before  they  were  admitted  to  commu- 
nion.^ One  of  the  canons  of  the  Council  of  Illiberis,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  while  in  general  condemning 
baptism  by  laymen,  permitted  it  in  case  of  extreme  necessity ; 
but  provided  that  even  then  it  was  intlispensable  that  the 
officiating  layman  should  not   have   been    twice    married.^ 


'  Contra  Jovin.  i.  saiil  not  to  imply  that  the  sec'ind 

'  Il>id.     See,  too,  Ep.  cxxiii.  marriago  wax  ii  sin,  but  that  the 

'  Horn.  xATi.  in  Luc.  moral  condition  that  made  it  ue- 

*  Orat.  xxxi.  cessary  was  a  had  one. 

*  Perrone,  i)e  3/fli'r.  iii.  §  l.art.  *  Cone.  Illib.  can.  xxxnii, 
1  ;  Natalis  Alexander,  His^t.  Rclcs.  Bingham  thinks  the  feeling  of  the 
1[.  di.ssert.  18.     The  penances  are  Council  to  have  been,  that  if  lap- 


328  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

A-inong  the  Greeks  foiu'th  marriages  were  at  one  timd 
deemed  absolutely  unlawful,  and  much  controversy  was 
excited  by  the  Emperor  Leo  the  Wise,  who,  having  had 
three  wives,  had  taken  a  mistress,  but  afterwards,  in  defiance 
of  the  religious  feelings  of  his  people,  determined  to  raise  her 
to  the  position  of  a  wife.' 

The  subject  of  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy,  in  which  the 
ecclesiastical  feelings  about  marriage  were  also  shown,  is  an 
extremely  large  one,  and  I  shall  not  attempt  to  deal  with  it, 
except  in  a  most  cursory  manner.^  There  are  two  facts  con- 
nected with  it  which  every  candid  student  must  admit.  The 
first  is,  that  in  the  earliest  period  of  the  Church,  the  privi- 
lege of  marriage  was  accorded  to  the  clergy.  Tlie  second  is, 
that  a  notion  of  the  impurity  of  maniage  existed,  and  that  it 
was  felt  that  the  clergy,  as  pre-eminently  the  holy  class, 
should  have  less  licence  than  laymen.  The  first  form  this 
feeling  took  appears  in  the  strong  conviction  that  a  second 
marriage  of  a  priest,  or  the  marriage  of  a  priest  with  a 
widow,  was  unlawful  and  criminal.^     This  belief  seems  to 


tism  "was  not   administered  by  a  High  Church  writers,  and  writers 
priest,  it  should  at  nil  events  be  of  the  positive  school,  have   con- 
administered   by   one   who   might  spired  to  sustain. 
have  been  a  priest.  '  See  Lea,  p.  36.   The  command 

*  Perrone,  De  Matrlmmiio,  tome  of  St.  Paul,  tluit  a  bishop  or  deacon 

iii.  p.  1 02.  should  be  the  husband  of  one  wife 

^  This  subject  has  recently  been  (1  Tim.  iii.  2-12)  was  believed  by 
treated  M'ith  very  great  learning  all  ancient  and  by  many  modern 
and  with  admiraljlo  impartiality  commentators  to  be  proiiibitory  of 
by  an  American  author,  Mr.  Henry  second  marringes ;  and  tiiis  view  is 
C.  Lea,  in  his  Ilisiori/  of  Sarcrdvlnl  somewhat  confirmed  by  the  widows 
CWt'Aacy  (Philadelphia,1867),whii-h  who  were  to  be  honoured  and  sup- 
is  certainly  one  of  tlio  most  valu-  ported  by  tiio  Church,  being  only 
aljjo  works  tliat  America  has  pro-  tliose  who  had  been  but  once  mar- 
duced.  Since  the  great  history  of  ricd  (I  Tim.  v.  9).  See  Pressense, 
Uean  Milman,  I  know  no  work  in  Hint,  dcs  troh  yrcmura  Siicles  (!'• 
English  which  has  tiirown  more  seric),  tome  ii  p.  233.  Among  the 
li^ht  on  the  moral  comlition  of  the  Jews  it  was  ordained  that  the  high 
middle  ages,  and  none  which  is  prie.'^t  should  not  marry  a  widow, 
more  fitted  to  dispel  the  gross  illu-  (Levit.  xxi.  13- 14.) 
lions  concerning  tiiat  period  which 


THE    POSITION    OF   •WOMEN.  329 

have  existed  from  the  earliest  jDeriod  of  the  Church,  and  waa 
retained  with  great  tenacity  and  unanimity  through  many 
centuries.  In  the  next  place,  we  find  from  an  extremely 
early  date  an  opinion,  that  it  was  an  act  of  virtue,  at  a  later 
period  that  it  was  an  act  of  duty,  for  priests  after  ordination 
to  abstain  from  cohabiting  with  their  wives.  Tlie  Council 
of  Nice  refrained,  by  the  adWce  of  Paphnutius,  who  was 
himself  a  scrupulous  celibate,  from  imposing  this  last  rule  as 
a  matter  of  necessity  ; '  but  in  the  coiu-se  of  the  fourth  century 
it  was  a  recognised  principle  that  clerical  marriages  wero 
criminal.  They  were  celebrated,  however,  habitually,  and 
usually  wdth  the  gi-eatest  openness.  The  various  attitudes 
assumed  by  the  ecclesiastical  authorities  in  dealing  with  thia 
subject  form  an  extremely  curious  page  of  the  history  of 
morals,  and  supply  the  most  crushing  evidence  of  the  evils 
which  have  been  produced  by  the  system  of  celibacy.  I  can 
at  present,  however,  only  refer  to  the  vast  mass  of  evidence 
which  has  been  collected  on  the  subject,  derived  from  the 
writings  of  Catholic  divines  and  from  the  decrees  of  Catholic 
Councils  during  the  space  of  many  centuries.  It  is  a  popular 
illusion,  which  is  esiDecially  common  among  writers  who  have 
little  direct  knowledge  of  the  middle  ages,  that  the  atrocious 
immorality  of  monasteries,  in  the  century  Ixjfore  the  Eefor- 
mation,  was  a  new  fact,  and  that  the  ages  when  the  fnith  of 
men  was  undisturbed,  were  ages  of  great  moral  purity.  In 
fact,  it  appears,  fi-om  the  uniform  testimony  of  the  ecclesias- 
tical wiiters,  that  ecclesiastical  immorality  in  the  eighth 
and  thi-ee  following  centimes  was  little  if  at  all  less  out- 
rageous than  in  any  other  period,  while  the  Papacy,  during 
almost  the  whole  of  the  tenth  century,  was  held  by  men  of 


'  Socrates,  H.  E.  i.  11.  The  varied  greatly.  A  brilliant  sum- 
Council  of  Illiberis  (can.  xxxiii.)  niary  of  the  chief  facts  is  given  io 
had  ordained  this,  but  both  the  Jlilman's  History  of  Ear/i/  ChrU- 
precepts  and  the  practice  of  divines  tianity,  vol.  iii.  pp.  277-282. 


530  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

uifamoxis  lives.  Simony  was  nearly  universal.'  Barbarian 
chieftaias  married  at  an  early  age,  and  totally  incapable  of 
restraint,  occupied  the  leading  positions  in  the  Church,  and 
gross  irregularities  speedily  became  general.  An  Italian 
bishop  of  the  tenth  century  epigiammatically  described  tho 
morals  of  his  time,  when  he  declared,  that  if  he  were  to 
enforce  the  canons  against  unchaste  people  administering 
ecclesiastical  rites,  no  one  would  be  left  in  the  Church  except 
the  boys ;  and  if  he  were  to  observe  the  canons  against  bas- 
tards, these  also  must  be  excluded.'^  The  evil  acquired  such 
magnitude  that  a  great  feudal  clergy,  bequeathing  the  eccle- 
siastical benefices  from  father  to  son,  appeared  more  than 
once  likely  to  arise.^  A  tax  called  *  Culagium,'  which  was  in 
fact  a  licence  to  clergymen  to  keep  concubines,  was  during 
several  centuries  systematically  levied  by  princes.^  Some- 
times the  evil,  by  its  veiy  extension,  corrected  itself.  Priestly 
marriages  were  looked  upon  as  normal  events  not  implying 
any  guilt,  and  in  the  eleventh  century  several  instances  are 
recorded  in  which  thoy  were  not  regarded  as  any  impedi- 
ment to  the  power  of  working  mii-acles.*  But  this  was  a 
rare  exception.  From  the  eai-licst  period  a  long  succession 
of  Councils  as  well  as  such  men  as  St.  Boniface,  St.  Gregoiy 
the  Great,  St.  Peter  Damiani,  St.  Dun.stan,  St.  Anselm, 
Hildebrand  and  his  succcs.sors  in  the  Popedom,  denounced 
priestly  marriage  or  concubinage  as  an  atrocious  crime,  and 
the  habitual  life  of  the  priests  was,  in  theory  at  least,  gene- 
rally recognised  as  a  life  of  sin. 

It  is  not  surprising  that,  having  once  broken  then*  vows 
and  begun  to  live  what  they  deemed  a  life  of  habitual  sin, 


'  See,  on  thn  state  of  thitifrs  in  the  extent  to  -which  the  practice  of 

t'uo  tenth  and  eleventh  cenlurie.'j,  tliehereditarytmnsmi.ssionof eccle- 

Lca,  pp.  1G2-192.  siastical  offices  w:i,s  carried,  in  Lea, 

«  Katherius,  quoted  by  Lea,  p.  pp.  149,  150,  266,  299,  339. 
lAl.  <  Lea,  pp.  271,  292,  422. 

•  See  some  curious  evidence  of  '  Ibid.  pp.  186-187. 


THE   POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  331 

the  clergy  should  soon  have  sunk  far  below  the  level  of  the 
laity.  We  may  not  lay  much  stress  on  such  isolated  instances 
of  depi-avity  as  that  of  Pope  John  XXJII.,  who  was  con- 
demned among  many  other  ci-imes  for  incest,  and  for  adultery ;' 
or  the  abbot-elect  of  St.  Augustine,  at  Cantei'bury,  who 
in  1171  was  found,  on  investigation,  to  have  seventeen 
illegitimate  children  in  a  single  village  ;  ^  or  an  abbot  of  St. 
Pelayo,  in  Spain,  who  in  1 1 30  was  proved  to  have  kept  no 
less  than  seventy  concubines;^  or  Henry  III.,  Bishop  of 
Liege,  who  was  deposed  in  1274  for  having  sixty-fiye 
illegitimate  children ;  *  but  it  is  impossible  to  resist  the 
evidence  of  a  long  chain  of  Councils  and  ecclesiastical  writera, 
who  conspire  in  depicting  far  greater  evils  than  simple  concu- 
binage. It  was  observed  that  when  the  priests  actually  took 
wives  the  knowledge  that  these  connections  were  illegal  was 
peculiarly  fatal  to  their  fidelity,  and  bigamy  and  extreme 
mobiKty  of  attachments  were  especially  common  among 
them.  The  writers  of  the  middle  ages  are  full  of  accounts  of 
nunneries  that  wei'e  like  brothels,  of  the  vast  multitude  of 
infanticides  within  their  walls,  and  of  that  inveterate 
prevalence  of  incest  among  the  clergy,  which  rendered  it 
necessary  again  and  again  to  issue  the  most  stringent  enact- 
ments that  priests  should  not  be  permitted  to  live  with  their 
mothers  or  sisters.  Unnatural  love,  which  it  had  been  one 
of  the  great  services  of  Christianity  almost  to  eradicate  from 
the  world,  is  more  than  once  spoken  of  as  lingeiiug  in  the 
monasteries  ;  and,  shortly  before  the  Reformation,  complaints 
became  loud  and  frequent  of  the  employment  of  the  con- 
fessional for  the  purposes  of  debauchery.*  The  measures 
taken  on  the  subject  were  very  numei'ous  and  seveie.  At 
first,    the   evil  chiefly   complained   of  was   the   clandestine 


•  Lea,  p.  358.  *  The  reader  may  find  the  most 

*  Ibid.  p.  296.  ample  evidence  of  these  positions 

•  Ibid.  p.  322.  in   Lea.     See   especially   pp.   13S, 

*  Ibid.  p.  349.  141,  163,  155,  260,  344. 


632  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

marriage  of  priests,  and  especially  their  intercourse  with 
wives  whom  they  had  manied  previous  to  their  ordination. 
Several  Councils  issued  their  anathemas  against  pi'iests  '  who 
had  improper  relations  with  their  wiA'es ; '  and  rules  were 
made  that  priests  should  always  sleep  in  the  presence  of  a 
Bubordinate  clerk;  and  that  they  should  only  meet  their 
wives  in  the  open  air  and  before  at  least  two  witnesses.  Men 
w^re,  however,  by  no  means  unanimous  in  their  way  of 
regarding  this  matter.  Synesius,  when  elected  to  a  bishopric, 
at  first  declined,  boldly  alleging  as  one  of  his  reasons,  that 
he  had  a  wife  whom  he  loved  dearly,  and  who,  he  hoped, 
would  bear  Viim  many  sons,  and  that  he  did  not  mean  to 
separate  from  her  or  visit  her  secretly  as  an  adulterer.'  A 
Bishop  of  Laon,  at  a  later  date,  who  was  man-ied  to  a  niece 
of  St.  Eemy,  and  who  remained  with  his  wife  till  after  he 
had  a  son  and  a  daughter,  quaintly  expressed  his  penitence 
by  naming  them  respectively  Latro  and  Yulpecula.^  St. 
Gregory  the  Great  describes  the  virtue  of  a  priest,  who, 
through  motives  of  piety,  had  discarded  his  wife.  As  he  lay 
dying,  .she  hastened  to  him  to  watch  the  bed  which  for  forty 
years  she  had  not  been  allowed  to  share,  and,  bending  ovei 
what  seemed  the  inanimate  form  of  her  husband,  she  tried  to 
ascertain  whether  any  breath  still  remained,  when  the  dying 
saint,  collecting  his  last  energies,  exclaimed,  '  Woman,  be- 
gone; take  away  the  straw;  there  is  fiie  yet.'^  The 
destruction  of  priestly  marriage  is  chiefly  due  to  Hildebrand, 
who  pursued  this  objexit  with  the  most  untiring  resolution. 
Finding  that  his  appeals  to  the  eccl&siastical  authorities  and 
to  the  civil  nilers  were  insufiicieut,  he  boldly  turned  to  the 
peoi)lc,  exliorted  them,  in  defiance  of  all  Church  traditions, 
U*    withdraw    their    obedience    from    married   priests,    and 


'  .'Synesius,  Ep.  cv.  had  m.-ide  him  ji  principal  inter- 

»  Lea,   p.    122.      «t.  Augustine  locutor  in  one  of  hia  religious  dia 

had    named    his    illegitimate   eon  logues. 

Adcodatu.s,  or  the  Gift  of  God,  and  '  Difiloff.  iv.  )  1. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  333 

kindled  among  them  a  fierce  fanaticism  of  asceticism,  which 
speedily  produced  a  fierce  persecution  of  the  ofiending  pastors. 
Their  wives,  in  immense  numbers,  were  driven  forth  with 
hatred  and  with  scorn ;  and  many  crimes,  and  much  in- 
tolerable suffering,  followed  the  disruption.  The  priests 
sometimes  strenuously  resisted.  At  Cambrai,  in  a.d.  1077, 
they  burnt  alive  as  a  heretic  a  zealot  who  was  maintaining 
the  doctrines  of  Hildebrand.  In  England,  half  a  century 
later,  they  succeeded  in  suri)rising  a  Papal  legate  in  the  arms 
of  a  courtesan,  a  few  hours  after  he  had  delivered  a  fierce 
denunciation  of  clerical  unchastity.'  But  Papal  resolution 
supported  by  popular  fanaticism  won  the  victory.  Pope 
Urban  II.  gave  licence  to  the  nobles  to  reduce  to  slavery 
the  wives  whom  priests  had  obstinately  refused  to  abandon, 
and  after  a  few  more  acts  of  severity  priestly  maiTiage  be- 
came obsolete.  The  extent,  however,  of  the  disorders  that 
still  existed,  is  shown  by  the  mournful  confessions  of 
ecclesiastical  writers,  by  the  uniform  and  indignant  testi- 
mony of  the  poets  and  prose  satirists  who  preceded  the 
EefoiTQation,  by  the  atrocious  immoralities  disclosed  in  the 
monasteries  at  the  time  of  their  suppression,  and  by  the 
significant  prudence  of  many  lay  Catholics,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  insist  that  their  priest  should  take  a  concubine 
for  the  protection  of  the  families  of  his  parishioners.^ 


'  This  is  mentioned  by  Henry  the  protection  of  his  female  pari  sh- 

of  Huntingdon,  who  was  a  contem-  loners.     (Ibid.  p.  355.)     Sarpi,  in 

porary.     (Lea,  p.  293.)  his  Hist,  of  the  Council  of  Trent, 

*  Tho  first  notii'O  of  this  very  mentions    (on    the    authority    of 

remarkable  precaution  is  in  a  canon  Ztiinglius)    this      Swiss     custom, 

of   the   Council    of   Palencia    (in  ^i^•(>la3   of  Clemaiigis,   a   lemling 

Spain)  held  in  1322,  which  anathe-  member  of  tho   Council   of  Con- 

matises  laymen  who  compel  their  stance,  declared  that    this   custom 

pastors  to  tvke  concubines.     (Lea,  had    become    very    common,    that 

p.  324.)     Sleidan  mentions  that  it  tho   laity   were   firmly  persuaded 

■was  customary  in  some  of  the  Swiss  that  priests  ncfcr  lived  a  life  of 

cantons    for    the    parishioners   to  real    celibacy,    and    that,    where 

oblige  the  priest  to  select  a  concu-  no   proofs    of    concubinage   were 

bine  as  a  necessary  precaution  tor  found,   they  always  assumed   the 


334  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  conceive  a  more  demoralising 
influence  than  a  priesthood  living  such  a  life  as  I  have  de- 
scribed. In  Protestant  countries,  where  the  marriage  of  the 
clergy  is  fully  recognised,  it  has,  indeed,  been  pi-oductive  of 
the  greatest  and  the  most  unequivocal  benefits.  Nowhere, 
it  may  be  confidently  asserted,  does  Christianity  assume  a  moi-c 
beneficial  or  a  more  winning  form  than  in  those  gentle  clerical 
households  which  stud  our  land,  constituting,  as  Coleridge  said, 
'the  one  idyll  of  modern  life,'  the  most  perfect  type  of  domestic 
peace,  the  centre  of  civilisation  in  the  remotest  village.  Not- 
withstanding some  class  nai-rowness  and  professional  bigotry, 
notwithstanding  some  unworthy,  but  half  unconscious 
niannei'ism,  which  is  often  most  unjustly  stigmatised  as 
hypocrisy,  it  would  be  diflicult  to  find  in  any  other  quarter 
so  much  hai)piness  at  once  diftused  and  enjoyed,  or  so  much 
virtue  attained  with  so  little  tension  or  struggle.  Com- 
bining with  his  sacred  calling  a  warm  sympathy  with  the 
intellectual,  social,  and  political  movements  of  his  time, 
possessing  the  enlarged  practical  knowledge  of  a  fatlier  of  a 
family,  and  entering  with  a  keen  zest  into  the  occupations 
and  the  amusements  of  his  parishioners,  a  good  clergyman  will 
rarely  obtrude  his  religious  convictions  into  secular  spheres, 
but  yet  will  make  them  apparent  in  all.  They  will  be  re- 
vealed by  a  higher  and  deeper  moi'al  tone,  by  a  more 
scrupulous  purity  in  word  and  action,  by  an  all-pervasive 
gentleness,  which  refines,  and  softens,  and  mellows,  and  adds 
as  much  to  the  charm  as  to  the  excellence  of  the  character 


existence    of  more    serious    vice,  nullos  ca'libes  esse,  ut  in  plcrisque 

The    passage    (which    is     quoted  parouhiis  noa  aliter  velint  presby- 

\>y   Biiyle)   is  too    remarkable  to  terum    tolrrare    nisi     conculnn;ini 

be    OTiiittod.     '  Taceo   do    toriiica-  habeiit,  quo  vel  sic  suis  sit  consnl- 

tioiiilms  et  adultcriis  a  quibus  (jui  turn  uxoribus,  qn;e  noc  sic  (luidcm 

idieni  sunt  prubro  cffitoris  ae  hidi-  usquequfiquo  sunt  extra  pcricid urn.' 

brio  esse  sjlent,   spadonesque   aut  Jsiv.  do  dom.  De  Preedul.  Sunonuw 

sodomitse     nppellantur ;     donique  (Lea,  p.  386.) 
I  lici  usque  ndeo  pcrtuasum  habent 


THE    POSITION    OV    WOMEN.  335 

in  which  it  is  displayed.  '  In  visiting  the  sick,  i-elieving  the 
poor,  instructing  the  young,  and  discharging  a  thousand 
delicate  offices  for  which  a  woman's  tact  is  especially  needed, 
his  wife  finds  a  sphere  of  labour  which  is  at  once  intensely 
acbive  and  intensely  femLaine,  and  her  example  is  not  less 
beneficial  than  her  ministrations. 

Among  the  Catholic  priesthood,  on  the  other  hand, 
where  the  vow  of  celibacy  is  faithfully  observed,  a  character 
of  a  diSerent  type  is  formed,  which  with  very  grave  and 
deadly  faults  combines  some  of  the  noblest  excellences  to 
which  humanity  can  attain.  Separated  from  most  of  the  ties 
and  afiections  of  earth,  viewing  life  chiefly  through  the 
distorted  medium  of  the  casuist  or  the  confessional,  and 
deprived  of  those  relationships  which  more  than  any  others 
soften  and  expand  the  character,  the  Catholic  priests  have 
been  but  too  often  conspicuous  for  then-  fierce  and  sanguinary 
fanaticism,  and  for  their  indifierence  to  all  interests  except 
those  of  their  Church ;  while  the  narrow  range  of  their 
sympathies,  and  the  intellectual  servitude  they  have  accepted, 
render  them  peculiarly  unfitted  for  the  ofiice  of  educating  the 
yoiing,  which  they  so  persistently  claim,  and  which,  to  the 
great  misfortune  of  the  world,  they  were  long  ])ermitted  to 
monopolise.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  no  other  body  of  men 
have  ever  exhibited  a  more  single  minded  and  unworldly 
zeal,  refr-acted  by  no  personal  interests,  sacrificing  to  duty 
the  dearest  of  earthly  objects,  and  confronting  with  un- 
daunted heroism  every  form  of  hardship,  of  suffering,  and 
of  death. 

That  the  middle  ages,  even  in  their  darkest  periods,  pro- 
duced many  good  and  great  men  of  the  latter  type  it  would 
bo  unjust  and  absurd  to  deny.  It  can  hardly,  however,  be 
questioned  that  the  extreme  frequency  of  ilhcit  connections 
among  the  clergy  tended  diu-iug  many  centuries  most  actively 
to  lower  the  moral  tone  of  the  laity,  and  to  counteract  the 
great  services  in  the  cause  of  purity  which  Christian  teach- 


336  HISTORY    OF    EUKOrEAN    MORALS. 

ing  had  iindoubtedly  effected.     The  priestly  connections  w  ere 
rarely  so  fully  recognised  as  to  enable  the  mistress  to  fill  a 
position  like  that  which  is  now  occupied  by  the  wife  of  a 
clergyman,   and   the   spectacle   of  the    chief  teachers    and 
exemplars   of  morals   living   habitually    in   an   intercourse 
which  was  acknowledged  to  be  ambiguous  or  wrong,  must 
have  acted  most  injuriously  upon   every  class  of  the  com- 
munity.    Asceticism,  proclaiming  war  upon  human  nature, 
produced  a  revulsion  towards  its  extreme  opposite,  and  even 
when   it   was   observed    it   was   frequently  detrimental    to 
purity  of  mind.    The  habit  of  continually  looking  upon  mar- 
riage in  its  coai-sest  light,  and  of  regarding  the  propagation 
of  the  species  as  its  one  legitimate  end,  exercised  a  pecu- 
liarly perverting  influence  upon  the  imagination.     The  ex- 
uberant piety  of  wives  who  desired  to  live  apart  from  their 
husbands  often  drove  the  latter  into  serious  irregularities.* 
The  notion  of  sin  was  introduced   into  the  dearest  of  re- 
lationships,2  and  the  whole  subject  Avas  distorted   and  de- 
graded.    It   is  one  of  the  oreat  benefits  of  Protestantism 
that  it  did   much   to   banish  these  modes   of  thought  and 
feeling  from  the  world,  and  to  restore  marriage  to  its  sim- 
plicity and  its  dignity.      We  have  a  gratifying  illustration 


'  This  was  energetically  noticed  culpam  non  habeat.     Qiiando  vero 

Ly  LutliiT,  in    hi.s  famous  sermon  deficiento   bono  prolis  fide  tamen 

'Do  Matrimonio,'  and  some  of  the  scrvata  conveniunt  causa  iuconti- 

Catholic  preachers    of  an   earlier  nentiie  non  sic   excusatur  ut  uon 

period   had   made   the  same  com-  habeat  culpam,  sed  veiiialem.  .  .  . 

plaint.      See    a    curious    passage  Item  hoc  quod  conjugati  victi  con 

from  a  contemporary  of  Boccaccio,  cupisccntia  utuntur  invicem,  ultra 

quoted    by  Meray,  Lrs  Lihres  pre-  neccssitatem    libcros      procrcandi, 

cheiirs, -p.  155.     '  V^ast  numbers  of  ponam   in  his  pro  quibus  quotidie 

hiymen  separated  from  tlu-ir  wives  dicimus  Diinitte  nobis  deiiita  nos- 

Huder  the  influence  of  the  ascetic  tra.    .    .   .    Unde_  in     sentcntiolis 

enthusiasm  wliich  Hildebrand  cro-  Soxti   Pythagorici   legilur   "omnic 

ateil.' Lea, p.  25t.  ardentior   amator   propriae   uxoris 

'  '  Quando   eiiim    sorvata    fide  adulter    est."' — Peter    Lombard, 

thori  causa   prolis    conjnges  con-  Scntent.  lib.  iv.  dist.  31. 
veniunt    sic    oxcueatur  coitus   ut 


THE    rOSITION    OF    WOMEN.  337 

of  the  extent  to  wliich  an  old  superstition  has  declined,  in 
the  fact  tbat  when  Goldsmith,  in  his  great  romance,  desii-ed 
to  depict  the  harmless  eccentricities  of  his  simple-minded  and 
unworldly  vicar,  he  represented  him  as  maintaining  that 
opinion  concerning  the  sinfulness  of  the  second  marriage  of  a 
clergyman  which  was  for  many  ceutui-ies  universal  in  the 
Church. 

Another  injm-ious  consequence,  resulting,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  asceticism,  was  a  tendency  to  depreciate 
extremely  the  character  and  the  position  of  women.  In 
this  tendency  we  may  detect  in  part  the  influence  of  the 
earlier  Jewish  writings,  in  which  an  impartial  observer 
may  find  e\T.dent  traces  of  the  common  Oriental  depreci- 
ation of  women.  The  custom  of  purchase-money  to  the 
father  of  the  bride  was  admitted.  Polygamy  was  au- 
thorised,* and  practised  by  the  wisest  man  on  an  enormoiis 
scale.  A  woman  was  regarded  as  the  origin  of  human  ills. 
A  period  of  purification  was  appointed  jifter  the  biith  of 
every  child ;  but.  by  a  very  significant  provision,  it  was 
twice  as  long  in  the  case  of  a  female  as  of  a  male  child.* 
*  The  badness  of  men,'  a  Jewish  writer  emphatically  declared, 
'is  better  than  the  goodness  of  women.' ^  The  ty])es  of 
female  excellence  exhibited  in  the  early  period  of  Jewish 
history  are  in  general  of  a  low  order,  and  certainly  far 
inferior  to  those  of  Roman  histoiy  or  Greek  poetiy ;  and  tho 
warmest  eulogy  of  a  woman  in  the  Old  Testament  ia 
probably  that  which  was  bestowed  upon  her  who,  with  cii-- 
cumstances  of  the  most  aggi-avated  treachery,  had  murdered 
the  sleeping  fugitive  who  had  taken  refuge  under  lier  i-oof. 


'  Many  wivps,  however,    were  '-'  T/Cvit.  xii.  1-5. 

forbidden.       (Deut.      xvii.      17-)  *  Eeelesiasticus,    xlii.    14.      I 

Polygamy  is  said  to  have  ceased  believe,  however,  the  pa-isage  has 

among  the  Jews  after  tho  return  been  transh\ted  'Better  tlie  bad- 

tVom  the  Babylonish  cnptivity. —  ness  of  a  man  than  the  blaudieh- 

Whewell's  Ele?ncnts  of  Morciliiy,  ments  of  a  woman.' 
book  iv.  ch.  v. 


338  HISTORY    OF    EDROrEAN    MORALS. 

The  combined  influence  of  the  Jewish  wTitings,  and  of 
that  ascetic  feeling  which  treated  women  as  the  chief  source 
of  temptation  to  man,  was  shown  in  those  fierce  invectives, 
which  form  so  conspicuous  and  so  grotesque  a  portion  of  tlie 
writings  of  the  Fathers,  and  which  contrast  so  curiously  with 
the  adulation  bestowed  upon  particular  members  of  the  sex. 
Woman  was  represented  as  the  door  of  hell,  as  the  mother  of 
all  human  ills.  She  should  be  ashamed  at  the  very  thought 
that  she  is  a  woman.  She  should  live  in  continual  penance, 
on  account  of  the  cui-ses  she  has  brought  upon  the  world. 
She  should  be  ashamed  of  her  dress,  for  it  is  the  memorial 
of  her  fall.  She  should  be  especially  ashamed  of  her  beauty, 
for  it  is  the  most  potent  instrument  of  the  d;vmon.  Physical 
beauty  was  indeed  pei^petually  the  theme  of  ecclesiastical 
denunciations,  though  one  singular  exception  seems  to  have 
been  made ;  for  it  has  been  observed  that  in  the  middle  ages 
the  personal  beauty  of  bishops  was  continually  noticed  upon 
their  tombs.  ^  Women  were  even  forbiddeu  by  a  provincial 
Council,  in  the  sixth  century,  on  account  of  their  impurity, 
to  receive  the  Eucharist  into  their  naked  hands. ^  Their 
essentially  subordhiate  position  was  continually  maintained. 

It  is  probable  that  this  teaching  had  its  part  in  deter- 
mining the  principles  of  legislation  concei-ning  the  sex.  The 
Pagan  laws  during  the  Empire  iiad  been  continually  repealing 
the  old  disabilities  of  women,  and  the  legislative  movement 
in  their  favour  continued  with  unabated  force  from  Constan- 
tino to  Justinian,  and  appeared  also  in  some  of  the  early 
laws  of  the  barbarians.'     But  in  the  whole  feudal  legislation 


'  Tills  curious   fact  is   noticed  Troplong,  Ivjluenccs  clu   Christirm. 

by    Le  ■  Blant,    Inscriptions  chrS-  isme  sur  le  Droit  (a  •work,  however, 

tienvrs  dc   la    Gau/e,    pp.   xevii.-  which   is  writ  ton   much   more   in 

xcriii.  tlio  spirit  of  an  apologist  tliaii  ia 

'■'  Sec  the  decree  of  a  Council  of  tliat  of  an  historian),  and  Legouve, 

Auxerre  (a.d,  /)78),  can.  .36.  l>p.  27-29. 
Seo  the  last  two  chapters  of 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN. 


339 


women  were  placed  in  a  mncli  lower  legal  position  than  vc 
the  Pagan  Empire.'  In  addition  to  the  personal  restrictions 
which  grew  necessarily  out  of  the  Catholic  docti-ines  concerning 
divorce,  and  concerning  the  subordination  of  the  weaker  sex, 
we  find  numerous  and  stringent  enactments,  which  rendered  it 
impossible  for  women  to  succeed  to  any  considerable  amonnt 
of  property,  and  which  almost  reduced  them  to  the  alter- 
native of  marriage  or  a  nunnery.^  The  complete  inferiority 
of  the  sex  was  continually  maintained  by  the  law  ;  and  that 
generous  public  opinion  which  in  Rome  had  fi'equently 
revolted  against  the  injustice  done  to  girls,  in  depriving 
them  of  the  gi-eater  part  of  the  inheritance  of  their  fathers, 
totally  disappeared.  Wherever  the  canon  law  has  been  the 
basis  of  legislation,  we  find  laws  of  succession  sacrificing  the 
interests  of  daughters  and  of  wives,-'  and  a  state  of  public 
opinion  which  has  been  formed  and  regulated  by  these  laws-; 
nor  was  any  serious  attempt  made  to  aboHsh  them  till  the 


'  Even  in  m.altors  not  relating 
to  property,  the  position  of  women 
in  feudalism  was  a  low  one.  '  Tout 
mari,'  says  Bcaumanoir,  'pent 
battresa  femme  quand  elle  ne  veut 
pas  obeir  a  son  commandement,  ou 
quand  elle  le  maudit,  ou  quand 
elle  le  dement,  pourvu  que  co  soit 
moderement  et  sans  que  mort 
s'ensuive,'  quoted  by  Legouve,  p. 
148.  Contrast  -with  this  the  say- 
ing of  the  elder  Cato:  'A  man 
■w'ho  beats  his  wife  or  his  children 
lays  impious  hands  on  that  whii'h 
is  most  holy  and  mosf  sacred  in 
the  world.'  —  Plutarch,  Marcus 
Cato. 

«  See  Legouv6,  pp.  29-38; 
Maine's  Ancient  Law,  pp.  154-169. 

'  '  No  society  which  preserves 
any  tincture  of  Christian  institu- 
tions IS  likely  to  restore  to  married 
vroniun  the  personal    liberty  con- 


ferred on  them  l)y  the  middle 
Eoman  law:  but  the  proprietary 
disabilities  of  married  females 
stand  on  quite  a  different  iiasis 
from  their  personal  incapacities, 
and  it  is  by  keeping  alive  :iud  con- 
solidating the  former  that  the  ex- 
positors of  the  canon  law  have 
deeply  injured  civilisation.  There 
Hre  many  vestiges  of  a  struggle 
between  the  secular  and  ecclesias- 
tical principles  ;  but  the  canon  law 
nearly  everywhere  prevailed.' — 
Maine's  Ancient  Law,  p.  l.iS.  I 
may  observe  that  the  Kussian  law 
was  early  very  favuunible  to  the 
pro|irietary  rights  of  married 
women,  f^ee  a  remarkable  letter 
in  the  Meiiioirs  of  the  Priinrsa 
Daschknw  (edited  by  Mrs.  Biad- 
fonl :  London,  1840),  vol.  ii.  p. 
404. 


340  HISTORY    OF    EUEOrEAN    MORALS. 

close  of  tlie  last  century.  Tlie  French  revolutionists,  though 
rejecting  the  proposal  of  Siey^s  and  Coniorcet  to  accord 
political  emancipation  to  women,  established  at  least  an  equal 
succession  of  sons  and  daughters,  and  thus  initiated  a  great 
reformation  of  both  law  and  opinion,  which  sooner  or  later 
must  traverse  the  world. 

In  their  efforts  to  raise  the  standard  of  purity,  the 
Christian  teachers  derived  much  assistance  from  the  incur- 
sions and  the  conquests  of  the  barbarians.  The  dissolution 
of  vast  retinues  of  slaves,  the  suspension  of  most  public 
games,  and  the  general  impoverishment  that  followed  the 
invasions,  were  all  favourable  to  female  virtue ;  and  in  this 
respent  the  various  tiibes  of  barbarians,  however  violent  and 
lawless,  were  far  superior  to  the  more  civilised  community. 
Tacitus,  in  a  very  famous  work,  had  long  before  pourtrayed 
in  the  most  flattering  colours  the  purity  of  the  Germans. 
Adultery,  he  said,  was  very  rare  among  them.  The  adul- 
teress was  driven  from  the  house  with  shaven  haii',  and 
beaten  ignominiously  through  the  village.  Neither  youth, 
nor  beauty,  nor  wealth  could  enable  a  woman  who  was 
known  to  have  sinned  to  secure  a  husband.  Polygamy  was 
restricted  to  the  princes,  who  looked  upon  a  plurality  of 
wives  rather  as  a  badge  of  dignity  than  as  a  gratification  of 
the  passions.  Mothera  invariably  gave  suck  to  their  own 
children.  Infanticide  was  forbidden.  AVidows  were  not 
allowed  to  re-marry.  The  men  feai-ed  captivity,  much  more 
for  their  wives  than  for  themselves;  they  believed  that  a 
cacred  and  prophetic  gift  resided  in  women ;  they  consulted 
them  as  oracles,  and  followed  thoir  counsels. ' 

It  is  generally  believed,  and  it  is  not  improbable,  that 
Tacitus  in  this  work  intended  to  reprove  the  dissolute  habita 
of  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  considerably  over-coloured  the 
virtue  of  the  barbaiians.    Of  the  substantial  justice,  however, 


Germania,  cap.  ix.  xviii.-xx. 


TTIE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  341 

of  liis  picture  we  have  much  evidence.     Salvian,  who,  about 
three  centuries  later,  witnessed  and  described  the  manners  of 
the  barbarians  who  had  triumphed  over  the  Empire,  attested 
in  the  strongest  language  the  contrast  which  their  chastity 
pi^sented  to  the  vice  of  those  whom  they  had  subdued.'     The 
Scandinavian  mythology  abounds  in  legends  exhibiting  th« 
clear  sentiment  of  the  heathen  tribes  on  the  subject  of  purity, 
and  the  awful  penalties  threatened  in  the  next  world  against 
the  seducers.^    The  barbarian  women  were  accustomed  to  pme- 
tise  medicine  and  to  interpret  dreams,  and  they  also  veiy 
frequently  accompan'ed  their  husbands  to  battle,  rallied  their 
broken  forces,  and  even  themselves  took  part  in  the  fight. ^ 
Augustus  had  discovered  that  it  was  useless  to  keep  bar- 
barian cliiefs  as  hostages,  and  that  the  one  way  of  securing 
the  fidelity  of  traitors  was  by  taking  their  w-ives,  for  these, 
at  least,  were  never  sacrificed.     Instances  of  female  heroism 
are  said  to  have  occurred  among  the  conquered  nations  which 
might  rival  the  most  splendid  in  Koman  annals.     "When  Ma- 
rias had  vanquished  an   army   of  the  Teutons,   their   wives 
besought  the  conqueror  to  permit  them  to  become  the  ser- 
vants of  the  Vestal  Virgins,  in  order  that  their  honour,  at 
least,  might  be  secure  in  slavery.     Their  request  was  refused, 
and   that  night  they  all   perished  by  their  own  hands.*    A 
powerful  noble  once   solicited  the  hand  of  a  Galatian  lady 
named  Camma,  who,  faithful  to  her  husband,  resisted  all  his 
entreaties.     Resolved  at  any  hazard  to  succeed,  he  caused  her 
husband  to  be  assassinated,  and  when  she  took  refuge  in  the 
temple  of  Diana,  and  enrolled  herself  among  the  priestesses, 
he  sent  noble  after  noble  to  induce  her  to  relent.     After 
a  time,  he  ventured  himself  into  her  presence.     She  feigned 


'  De  Gubernatlone  Dei.  I\Im reel li mis,    xv.     J2;     VopiscuH^ 

-  See,  for  these  legends,  IMal-  Aure/ianun;  Flnrns,  iii.  3. 

lOt's  Northern  Antiquities.  ^  Valor.  Max.    vi.   1  ;    Hieroit 

'  Tacitus,    Germ.  S) ;    Hist.  iv.  ^yj.  cssiii. 

IS ;     Xiphiiin.     Ixxi.    3 ;     Amm. 

54 


342  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

a  willingness  to  yield,  but  told  him  it  was  first  necessary  to 
make  a  libation  to  the  goddess.  She  appeared  as  a  priestess 
before  the  altar,  bearing  in  her  hand  a  cnp  of  wine,  which 
she  had  poisoned.  She  drank  half  of  it  herself,  handed  the 
remainder  to  her  giidty  lover,  and  when  he  had  drained  the 
cup  to  the  dregs,  burst  into  a  fierce  thanksgiving,  that  she 
had  been  permitted  to  avenge,  and  was  soon  to  rejoin,  her 
mnrdored  husband.^  Another  and  still  more  remarkable 
instance  of  conjugal  fidelity  was  furnished  by  a  Gaulish 
woman  named  Epponina.  Her  husband,  Julius  Sabinus, 
had  rebelled  against  Vespasian ;  he  was  conquered,  and 
might  easily  have  escaped  to  Germany,  but  could  not  bear  to 
abandon  his  young  wife.  He  retired  to  a  villa  of  his  own, 
concealed  himself  in  subterranean  cellars  that  were  below  it, 
and  instructed  a  freedman  to  spread  the  repoit  that  he  had 
committed  suicide,  while,  to  account  for  the  disap|x?arance  of 
liis  body,  he  set  fire  to  the  villa.  Epponina,  hearing  of  ihe 
suicide,  for  thi'ee  days  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground  without 
eating.  At  length  tlie  freedman  came  to  her,  and  told  her 
that  the  suicide  was  feigned.  She  continued  her  lamenta- 
tions by  day,  but  visited  her  husband  by  night.  She  Ijecame 
with  child,  but  owing,  it  is  said,  to  an  ointment,  she  suc- 
ceeded in  concealing  her  state  fiom  her  friends.  When  the 
hour  of  partin  ition  was  at  hand,  she  went  alone  into  the 
cellar,  and  without  any  assistance  or  attendance  was  de- 
livered of  twins,  whom  she  brought  up  underground.  For 
nine  ycai"s  she  fulfilled  her  task,  when  Sabinus  wjis  dis- 
covered, and,  to  the  lasting  disgrace  of  Yosjmsian,  waa 
executed,  in  spite  of  the  su2)plications  of  his  wife,  who 
made  it  her  last  request  that  she  might  be  permitted  to 
die  with  him.'^ 

The  moral  purity  of  the  barbarians  was  of  a  kind  alto 


'  Plutarch,  Dc  Mnlur.  Virt.  Tho  n:inio  of  tliis  lioroic  Avifo    i? 

'  I'ltitanh,  Amatcrius;  Xiphi-     given  in  thrto  different  forms, 
iin.   Ixvi.  IC;  Tacit.   Hist.   iv.    67. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  343 

gether  different  from  that  which  the  ascetic  movement 
incnicated.  It  was  concentrated  exclusively  upon  marriage. 
It  showed  itself  in  a  noble  conjugal  fidelity;  but  it  was 
little  fitted  for  a  life  of  celibacy,  and  did  not,  as  we  have 
seen,  prevent  excessive  disorders  among  the  priesthood.  The 
practice  of  polygamy  among  the  barbarian  kings  was  also 
for  some  centuries  unchecked,  or  at  least  unsuppressed,  by 
Christianity.  The  kings  Caribert  and  Chilperic  had  both 
many  wives  at  the  same  time.^  Clotaire  married  the  sister 
of  his  first  wife  during  the  lifetime  of  the  latter,  who,  on  the 
intention  of  the  king  being  announced,  is  reported  to  have 
said,  '  Let  my  lord  do  what  seemeth  good  in  his  sight,  only 
let  thy  servant  live  in  thy  favour.'  ^  Theodebert,  whose 
general  goodness  of  character  is  warmly  extolled  by  the 
episcopal  historian,  abandoned  his  fii'st  wife  on  account  of  an 
atrocious  crime  which  she  had  committed;  took,  during  her 
lifetime,  another,  to  whom  he  had  previously  been  betrothed ; 
and  upon  the  death  of  this  second  wife,  and  while  the  first 
was  still  living,  took  a  third,  whom,  however,  at  a  later 
period  he  miu'dered.^  St.  Columbanus  was  expelled  from 
Gaul  chiefly  on  account  of  his  denunciations  of  the  polygamy 
of  King  Thierry."*  Dagobert  had  three  wives,  as  well  as  a 
multitude  of  concubines.^  Charlemagne  himself  had  at  the 
same  time  two  wives,  and  he  indulged  largely  in  concu- 
bines.® After  this  peiiod  examples  of  this  nature  became 
rare.  The  Popes  and  the  bishops  exercised  a  strict  super- 
vision over  domestic  morals,  and  strenuously,  and  in  most 
p-aaes  successfully,  opposed  the  attempts  of  kings  and  nobles 
to  repudiate  their  wives. 


'  On  tlio  polygnmy  of  the  first,  '  Iliid.  Ix. 

Bee    Greg.  Tur.    iv.    26 ;    on  the  '  Eginhanhis,  I'it.   Kar.  Mag. 

polygamy  of  Chilperic,  Greg.  Tur.  xviii.     Charlemagne  iiaJ,  accorvl- 

u.  28;  T.  \i.  ing  to  Eginhard,  fourvives,  but,  as 

*  Greg.  Tur.  iv.  3.  far  as  I  can  \indersLand,  only  two 

'  lliid.  ill    25-27,  36.  at  the  same  time. 

<  Fredegarius,  xxxvi. 


S44  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  startling  facts,  there  can  bo 
no  doabt  that  the  general  purity  of  the  barbarians  was  from 
the  first  superior  to  that  of  the  later  Romans,  and  it  appears 
in  many  of  their  laws.  It  has  been  very  happily  observed,* 
that  the  high  value  placed  on  this  virtue  is  well  illustrated 
by  the  fact  that  in  the  Salic  code,  while  a  charge  of  cowardice 
falsely  brought  against  a  man  was  only  punished  by  a  fine 
of  three  solidi,  a  charge  of  unchastity  falsely  brought  against 
a  woman  was  punished  by  a  fine  of  forty-five.  The  Teutonic 
sentiment  was  shown  in  a  very  stern  legislation  against 
adidtery  and  rape,^  and  curiously  minute  precautions  were 
sometimes  taken  to  guard  against  them.  A  law  of  the 
Spanish  "Visigoths  prohibited  surgeons  from  bleeding  any 
free  woman  except  in  the  presence  of  her  husband,  of  her 
nearest  relative,  or  at  least  of  some  properly  ajipointed 
witness,  and  a  Salic  law  imposed  a  fine  of  fifteen  pieces  of 
gold  upon  any  one  who  improperly  pi-essed  her  hand.^ 

Under  the  influence  of  Christianity,  assisted  by  the  bar- 
barians, a  vast  change  passed  gradually  over  the  world.  The 
vice  we  are  considering  was  probal>ly  more  rai'e ;  it  certainly 
assumed  less  extravagant  forms,  and  it  was  screened  from 
observation  with  a  new  modesty.  The  theoiy  of  morals  had 
become  clearer,  and  the  practice  was  somewhat  improved. 
The  extreme  grossness  of  literature  had  disappeared,  and  the 
more  glaxing  violations  of  man-iage  were  always  censured 
and  often  repressed.  The  penitential  disci})line,  and  the 
exhortations  of  the  pulpit,  diffused  abroad  an  immeasurably 
higher  sense  of  the  importance  of  purity  than  Pagan  anti- 
quity had  known.  St.  Gregoiy  the  Great,  following  in  the 
stoj)s  of  some  Pagan  philosophers,^  strenuously  urged  upon 


'  Smyth's  Lecture*  on  Modirn  p.  67. 
Ilislori/,  vol.  i.  pp.  61-62.  '  See,    on     those    laws,    Lord 

*  Oilman's     Hist,     of     Latin  Kimos  0»  H-oj^m?;!  :  Logouve,  p.  57. 
Christitnii/?/,  vol.  i.    p.    363  ;  Le-  ■*  Favorinxis  had  strongly  urged 

gpuve,  Hist.   Morale  dis   Ftmme.*,  it.     (Aul.  Gell.  Noct.  xii.  1.) 


THE    POSITION    OF   WOMEN.  345 

mothers  the  duty  of  themselves  suckling  their  children ;  and 
many  minute  and  stringent  precepts  were  made  against 
extravagances  of  dress  and  manners.  The  religious  insti- 
tutions of  Greece  and  Asia  Minor,  which  had  almost  conse- 
crated prostitution,  were  for  ever  abolished,  and  the  courtesan 
sank  into  a  lower  stage  of  degradation. 

Besides  these  changes,  the  duty  of  reciprocal  fidelity  in 
marriage  was  enforced  with  a  new  earnestness.  The  con- 
trast between  the  levity  with  which  the  frailty  of  men  has 
in  most  ages  been  regarded,  and  the  extreme  severity  with 
which  women  who  have  been  guilty  of  the  same  offence  have 
generally  been  treated,  forms  one  of  the  most  singular 
anomalies  in  moral  history,  and  appears  the  more  remarkable 
when  we  remember  that  the  temptation  usually  springs  from 
the  sex  which  is  so  readily  pardoned ;  that  the  sex  which 
is  visited  with  such  crushing  penalties  is  proverbially  the 
most  weak ;  and  that,  in  the  case  of  women,  but  not  in  the 
case  of  men,  the  vice  is  very  commonly  the  result  of  the  most 
abject  misery  and  poverty.  For  this  disparity  of  censure 
several  reasons  have  been  assigned.  The  offence  can  be  more 
surely  and  easily  detected,  and  therefore,  more  certainly 
punished,  in  the  case  of  women  than  of  men ;  and,  as  the  duty 
of  providing  for  his  children  falls  upon  the  father,  the  int)-o- 
duction  into  the  family  of  childi-cn  who  are  not  his  own  is  a 
si)ecial  injury  to  him,  while  illegitimate  childi-en  who  do  not 
spring  from  adultery  will  probably,  on  account  of  their  father 
having  entered  into  no  compact  to  support  them,  ultimately 
become  criminals  or  paupers,  and  tliorefore  a  burden  to 
Bxiety.'  It  may  be  added,  I  think,  that  several  causes 
render  the  observance  of  this  virtue  more  difficult  for  one  sex 
than  for  the  other ;  that  its  violation,  when  every  allowance 
hns  been  made  for  the  moral  degradation  which  Ls  a  result  of 


'  These  ai-e  the  reasons  given  by   Malthus,  On  Population,  book 
iii.  ch.  ii. 


346  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

the  existing  condition  of  public  opinion,  is  naturally  mow 
profoundly  prejudicial  to  the  character  of  women  than  of 
men ;  and  also  that  much  of  our  feeling  on  these  subjects  is 
due  to  laws  and  moi-al  systems  which  were  formed  by  men, 
and  were  in  the  first  instance  intended  for  their  own  pro- 
tection. 

The  passages  in  the  Fathers,  asserting  the  equality  of  tho 
obligation  imposed  upon  both  sexes,  are  exceedingly  unequi- 
vocal ;  ^  and  although  the  doctrine  itself  had  been  anticipated 
by  Seneca  and  Plutarch,  it  had  probably  never  before,  and  it 
has  never  since,  been  so  fully  realised  as  in  the  early  Church. 
It  cannot,  however,  be  said  that  the  conquest  has  been 
i-etained.  At  the  present  day,  although  the  standard  of 
morals  is  far  higher  than  in  Pagan  Rome,  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  the  inequality  of  the  censure  which  is 
bestowed  upon  the  two  sexes  is  not  as  great  as  in  the  days 
of  Paganism,  and  that  inequality  is  continually  the  cause  of 
the  most  shameful  and  the  most  pitiable  injustice.  In  one 
respect,  indeed,  a  gi-eat  retrogression  resulted  from  chivalry, 
and  long  survived  its  decay.  The  character  of  the  seducer, 
and  especially  of  the  passionless  seducer  who  pm'sues  h.is 
career  simply  as  a  kind  of  sport,  and  under  the  influence  of 
no  stronger  motive  than  vanity  or  a  spu-it  of  adventure,  has 
been  glorided  and  idealised  in  the  popular  literature  of 
Chi-istcudom  in  a  manner  to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel 
in  antiquity.  When  we  reflect  that  the  object  of  such  a  man 
is  by  the  colde.st  and  most  delibei-ate  treachery  to  blast  the 


'  St.     Augustiiio     {De    C"n).  stupro  atque  adiiltcrio  condom luito 

Adult,  ii.  19)  maintains  that  adul-  passim  por  lupanaria  et  ancillulas 

tcry  is  even  more  criminal  in  llio  libido    pt'rmittitiir,    quasi  culpam 

man    than    in    the    woraan.      8t.  dignifas  facial  non  voluutas.  Apud 

Jerome  has  an  impressive  passage  nos  quod  non  licet  femiuis  £eqtie 

on  tho  Buljcct :  'Aliae  sunt  leges  non  licet  viris;  et  eadem  servituH 

Cxsarum,     alite      Christ i  ;     aliud  pari     conditiono      censotur.' — Ep. 

rapianns,     aliud     PauliiB     nostri  Isxvii.     St.   Chrysostom  -writes  in 

prsEcepit.     Apud  illos  ^iris  impu-  a  similar  strain, 
dicitise    fra'Ua     laxantur    et    solo 


THE    roSITION    OF    WOMEN.  347 

lives  of  Lonocenl  women ;  when  we  compare  the  le^^ty  of 
his  motive  with  the  irreparable  injury  he  inflicts ;  and  when 
we  remember  that  he  can  only  deceive  his  victim  hy 
persuading  her  to  love  him,  and  can  only  ruin  her  by 
persuading  her  to  trust  him,  it  must  be  owned  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  conceive  a  cruelty  more  wanton  and  more 
heartless,  or  a  character  combining  more  numerous  elements 
of  infamy  and  of  dishonoiu".  That  such  a  character  should 
for  many  centuries  have  been  the  popular  ideal  of  a  con- 
siderable section  of  literatvu-e,  and  the  boast  of  numbei-s 
who  most  plume  themselves  upon  theii;  honour,  is  assuredly 
one  of  the  most  mournful  facts  in  history,  and  it  represents 
a,  moi-al  deflection  certainly  not  less  than  was  i-evealed 
in  ancient  Greece  by  the  position  that  was  assigned  to  the 
courtesan. 

The  fundamental  truth,  that  the  same  act  can  never  be  at 
once  venial  for  a  man  to  demand,  and  infamous  for  a  woman 
to  accord,  though  nobly  enforced  by  the  early  Chi-istians,  has 
not  passed  into  the  popular  sentiment  of  Christendom.  The 
mystical  character,  however,  which  the  Church  imparted  to 
mariiage  has  been  extremely  influential.  Partly  by  i-aising 
it  into  a  sacrament,  and  partly  by  representing  it  as,  in 
some  m}'sterious  and  not  very  definable  sense,  an  image  of 
the  union  of  Christ  with  His  Church,  a  feeling  was  fostered 
that  a  lifelong  union  of  one  man  and  one  woman  is,  under 
all  circumstances,  the  single  form  of  intercourse  between  the 
sexes  which  is  not  illegitimite ;  and  this  conviction  ha.s 
acquired  the  force  of  a  primal  moral  intuition. 

There  can,  I  think,  be  little  doubt  that,  in  the  stringency 
with  which  it  is  usually  laid  down,  it  rests  not  upon  the  law 
of  nature,  but  upon  positive  law,  although  unassisted  natui-o 
is  sufficient  to  lead  men  many  steps  in  its  direction.  Con 
sidering  the  subject  simply  in  the  light  of  unaided  ixjason, 
two  rules  comprise  the  whole  duty  of  man.  He  must  ab- 
stain from  whatever  injures  happiness  or  degrades  chai-acter 


348  HISTORY    OF    EUEOPEAN    MORALS. 

Undei*  the  fii'st  liead,  he  must  include  the  more  remote 
as  well  as  the  immediate  consecjuences  of  his  act.  He  must 
consider  how  his  partner  will  be  affected  by  the  union,  the 
light  in  which  society  will  view  the  connection,  the  probable 
position  of  the  children  to  be  born,  the  effect  of  these  bii'ths, 
•ind  also  the  effect  of  his  example  upon  the  well-being  of 
Kocicty  at  large.  Some  of  the  elements  of  this  calculation 
vary  in  different  stages  of  society.  Thus,  public  opinion  in 
one  age  will  reprobate,  and  therefore  punish,  connections 
which,  in  another  age,  are  f  idly  sanctioned  ;  and  the  probable 
position  of  the  children,  as  well  us  the  effect  of  the  births 
upon  society,  will  depend  greatly  upon  particular  and 
national  circumstances. 

Under  the  second  head  is  comprised  the  influence  of  this 
intercourse  in  clouding  or  developing  the  mural  feelings, 
lowering  or  elevating  the  tone  of  character,  exciting  or  allay- 
ing the  abeiTations  of  the  imagination,  incapacitating  men  for 
pure  affections  or  extending  their  range,  making  the  animal 
l^art  of  our  natiu-e  more  or  less  predominant.  We  know,  by 
tlie  intuition  of  our  moral  nature,  that  this  predominance  is 
always  a  degraded,  though  it  is  not  always  an  unhappy,  con- 
dition. We  also  know  that  it  is  a  law  of  our  being,  that 
powerful  and  beautiful  affections,  which  had  before  been 
latent,  are  evoked  in  some  particular  forms  of  union,  while 
other  forms  of  union  are  pccidiarly  fitted  to  deaden  the 
affections  and  to  pervert  the  character. 

In  these  considerations  we  have  ample  gi'ounds  for 
maintaining  that  the  lifelong  union  of  one  man  and  of  one 
■M'oman  should  bo  the  normal  or  dominant  type  of  intercoui-se 
between  the  sexes.  We  can  prove  that  it  is  on  the  whole 
most  conducive  to  the  happiness,  and  also  to  the  moral 
elevation,  of  all  parties.  But  beyond  this  point  it  would, 
I  conceive,  be  impossible  to  advance,  except  by  the  assistance 
of  a  special  revelation.  It  by  no  means  follows  that  because 
this  should  be  the  dominant  type  it  should  be  the  only  one, 


THE   POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  SH) 

or  that  the  interests  of  society  demand  that  all  connections 
shoidd  be  forced  into  the  same  die.  Connections,  which  weie 
confessedly  only  for  a  few  years,  have  always  subsisted  side 
by  side  with  permanent  marriages ;  and  in  periods  when  pub- 
lic opinion,  acquiescing  in  their  propriety,  inflicts  no  exconi- 
nunication  on  one  or  both  of  the  partnei-s,  when  these 
partnei-s  are  not  living  the  demoralising  and  degrading  life 
which  accompanies  the  consciousness  of  g^iilt,  and  when 
proper  provision  is  made  for  the  children  who  are  born,  it 
would  be,  I  believe,  impossible  to  prove,  by  the  light  of 
simple  and  unassisted  reason,  that  such  connections  should  be 
invariably  condemned.  It  is  extremely  important,  both  for 
the  happiness  and  for  the  moral  well-being  of  men,  that  life- 
long unions  should  not  be  effected  simply  under  the  imperious 
prompting  of  a  blind  appetite.  There  are  always  multitudes 
who,  in  the  period  of  their  lives  when  their  passions  are  most 
strong,  are  incapable  of  supporting  children  in  then-  own 
social  rank,  and  who  would  therefore  injure  society  by 
marrying  in  it,  but  are  nevertheless  perfectly  capable  of 
securing  an  honourable  cai-ecr  for  their  illegitimate  children 
in  the  lower  social  sphere  to  which  these  woidd  naturally 
belonof.  Under  the  conditions  I  have  mentioned,  tliese 
connections  are  not  injurious,  but  beneficial,  to  the  weaker 
partner ;  they  soften  the  differences  of  rank,  they  stimulate 
social  habits,  and  they  do  not  produce  upon  chai-acter  tho 
defn-ading  effect  of  promiscuous  intercourse,  or  xipon  society 
the  injurious  effects  of  imprudent  marriages,  one  or  other  of 
which  will  multiply  in  tlicir  absence.  In  the  immense 
variety  of  cu-cumstances  and  characters,  cases  will  always 
appear  in  which,  on  utilitarian  gi-ounds,  they  might  seem 
advisable. 

It  is  necessary  to  dwell  upon  such  considerations  as  these, 
if  we  wovdd  understand  the  legislation  of  the  Pagan  Empire 
or  the  changes  that  were  effected  by  Christianity.  The 
legidators   of  the  Empire   distinctly    recognised   these  cun- 


S.'if)  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MOnAI,>. 

nections,  and  made  it  a  main  object  to  authorise,  dignify,  anci 
i"egulate  them.  The  unlimited  licence  of  divorce  pi-actically 
included  them  under  the  name  of  marriage,  while  that  name 
sheltered  tliem  from  stigma,  and  prevented  many  of  the 
gravest  evils  of  unauthorised  unions.  The  word  concubine 
also,  which  in  the  Republic  had  the  same  signification  as 
among  ourselves,  represented  in  the  Empire  a  stiictly  legal 
union — an  innovation  which  was  chiefly  due  to  Augustus, 
and  was  doubtless  intended  as  part  of  the  legislation  against 
celibacy,  and  also,  it  may  be,  as  a  corrective  of  the  licentioug 
habits  that  were  general.  This  miion  was  in  essentials 
merely  a  form  of  marriage,  for  he  who,  having  a  concubine, 
took  to  himself  either  a  wife  or  another  concubine,  was 
legally  guilty  of  adultery.  Like  the  commonest  form  of 
mai-riage,  it  was  consummated  without  any  ceremony,  and 
was  dis.soluble  at  will.  Its  peculiiirities  were  that  it  wa.s 
contracted  between  men  of  patrician  rank  and  freedwomen, 
who  were  forbidden  by  law  to  intermarry ;  that  the  concubine, 
though  her  position  was  perfectly  lecognised  and  honoui~able, 
did  not  share  the  rank  of  her  ])artncr,  that  she  brought  no 
dowry,  and  that  her  children  followed  her  rank,  and  were 
excluded  from  the  rank  and  the  inheiitance  of  their 
father. ' 

Against  these  notions  ChrLstianity  declared  a  direct  and 
implacable  warfare,  which  was  imperfectly  reflected  in  the 
civil  legislation,  but  appeared  unequivocally  in  the  writings 
of  the  Fathei-s,  and  in  most  of  the  decrees  of  the  Councils.' 


'See   Troplong,    Influence    dii  niunieot.    C<eteruin  is  qui  non  lialtet 

Cftri.stianisme  sur  le  Droit,  ]^p.  239-  uxorem  et  pro  uxoro  concuhiiiiim 

i,)l.  habet  acomniuniuiie  non  repellatur, 

^  We  finfl,  however,  traces  of  a  tfintum  utuniusmulieris,  autuxoris 

tol  oration  of  tlio  Koman  type  of  con-  aut  concubinae  ut  ei  pbicuerit,  sit 

cubino    in    Christianity   for    some  conjuiictione   contentus.' —  1    Cun. 

limo.     Thus,  a  Council  of  Tol'-do  17-     St.  Isidore  said:   '  Christiano 

decreed:   '.Si  quis  habens  uxorem  non  dicam  piurimas  sed  nee  duas 

ftdelia  concubinain  hubeat  non  com  •  siniul  habere  licitum  est,  ni.'-i  unam 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  351 

It  tanght,  as  a  religious  dogma,  invariable,  inflexible,  and 
independent  of  all  utilitarian  calculations,  that  all  forms  of 
intercor.rse  of  the  sexes,  other  than  lifelong  unions,  were 
criminal.  By  teaching  men  to  i-egard  this  doctrine  as  axiom- 
atic, and  therefore  inflicting  sevei-e  social  penalties  anrl 
deep  degradation  on  transient  connections,  it  has  profoundly 
modified  even  their  utilitarian  aspect,  and  has  rendered  theia 
in  most  countries  furtive  and  disguised.  There  is  probably 
no  other  branch  of  ethics  which  has  been  so  largely  deter- 
mined by  special  dogmatic  theology,  and  there  is  none  which 
would  be  so  deeply  afiected  by  its  decay. 

As  a  part  of  the  same  movement,  the  purely  civil  mar- 
riage of  the  later  Pagan  Empii-e  was  gradually  i-eplaced  by 
religious  marriages.  There  is  a  manifest  propriety  in 
invoking  a  divine  benediction  upon  an  act  which  forms  so 
important  an  epoch  in  life,  and  the  mingliug  of  a  religious 
ceremony  impresses  a  deeper  sense  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
contract.  The  essentially  religious  and  even  mystical  cha- 
racter imparted  by  Chiistianity  to  marriage  rendered  the 
consecration  peculiarly  natural,  but  it  was  only  very 
gi-adually  that  it  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  absolutely 
necessary.  As  I  have  already  noticed,  it  was  long  dispensed 
with  in  the  marriage  of  slaves ;  and  even  in  the  case  of 
freemen,  though  generally  performed,  it  was  not  made  com- 
pulsory tUl  the  tenth  centm-y.^  In  addition  to  its  primary 
object  of  sanctif}'ing  marriage,  it  became  in  time  a  powerful 


tautura  aut  uxorem,  aut  ccrto  loco  up  to  the  thirteriitli  century  a  cou- 

nxoris, si  coiijux  deest,  concuLinam.'  cubino  was  not  necessarily  an  aban- 

— ApudGratianum,  diss.  i.  Quoted  cloned  woman.     The  terra  was  ap- 

by  Natalis  Alexander,  Hint.  Etcles.  plied  to  marriages  that  were  real, 

Saec.  I.  diss.  29.     Mr.  Lea  (Hist,  of  but  not  officially  recognised.    Cole- 

Saeerdotal   Cclihacy,  pp.  203-205)  ridge  notices  a  remarkable  instance 

has  devoted  an  e.vtrenicly  interest-  of  the  revival  of  this  custom  in 

ing  mite  to  tracing  the  history  of  German  history. — Notes  on  Enplish 

the  vord   concubine  through   the  2)ti't«f5  (ed.  18.53\  vol.  i.  p.  221. 
middle  ages.     He  shows  that  even  '  Legouve,  p.  199. 


352  HISTORY    OF   EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

instrument  in  securing  tlie  authority  of  the  priesthood,  -who 
were  able  to  compel  men  to  submit  to  the  conditions  they 
imposed  in  the  formation  of  the  most  important  contract  of 
life;  and  the  modern  authorisation  of  civil  marriages,  by 
diminishing  greatly  the  power  of  the  Catholic  pi'iesthood 
over  domestic  life,  has  been  one  of  the  most  severe  blows 
ecclesiastical  influence  has  undergone. 

The  absolute  sinfulness  of  divorce  was  at  the  same  time 
Bti-enuously  maintained  by  the  Councils,  which  in  tliis,  as 
in  many  other  points,  differed  widely  from  the  civil  law. 
Constantine  restricted  it  to  three  cases  of  crime  on  the  part 
of  the  husband,  and  three  on  the  part  of  the  wife ;  but  the 
habits  of  the  people  were  too  strong  for  his  enactments,  and, 
after  one  or  two  changes  in  the  law,  the  full  latitude  of 
divorce  reappeared  in  the  Justinian  Code.  The  Fathers,  on 
the  other  hand,  though  they  hesitated  a  little  about  the  case 
of  a  divorce  which  followed  an  act  of  adultery  on  the  pai"t  of 
the  wife,'  had  no  hesitation  whatever  in  pronouncing  all 
other  divorces  to  be  criminal,  and  periods  of  penitential 
discipline  were  imposed  upon  Christians  who  availed  them- 
selves of  the  privileges  of  the  civil  law.^  For  many  centuries 
this  duality  of  legislation  continued.  The  barbarian  laws 
restricted  divorce  by  imposing  severe  fines  on  those  who 
repudiated  their  wives.  Charlemagne  pronounced  divorce  to 
be  criminal,  but  did  not  ventm-e  to  make  it  penal,  and  he 
practised  it  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Church  threat- 
ened with  excommunication,  and  in  some  cases  actually 
launched  its  thunders  against,  those  who  wei-e  guilty  of  it. 
It  was  only  in  the  twelfth  century  that  the  victory  was 


'  See  some  curious  passages  in  for  a  IiusLaiid  whose  M-ife  had  corn- 

Troploiig, pp. 222-22:>.  TheFatliers  mitto!  adultery  to  re-marry, 
seem  to  have  thought  dissolution  ^  Some  of  the  great  charities  of 

of  marriage  was  not  lawful  on  ac-  Fabiola   wore    perform.'d    hb    pe- 

count  of  the  adultery  of  the  hus-  nam-es.  on  account  of  lior  crime  in 

band,  but  that  it  was  not  absolutely  availing  herself  of  the  legislativ* 

ttiilawftt],  though  not  commendable,  permission  of  divorce. 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  353 

definitely  achieved,  and  the  civil  law,  adopting  the  piinciple 
of  the  canon  law,  prohibited  all  divorce.^ 

I  do  not  pi'opose  in  the  present  work  to  examine  how  far 
this  total  prohibition  has  been  for  the  happiness  or  the  moral 
well-being  of  men.  I  will  simply  observe  that,  though  it  is 
now  often  defended,  it  was  not  originally  imposed  in  ChrLstian 
nations,  upon  utilitarian  grounds,  but  was  based  upon  the  saci-a- 
mental  character  of  marriage,  upon  the  belief  that  marriage' 
is  the  special  symbol  of  the  perpetual  union  of  Christ  with 
Buis  Church,  and  upon  a  well-known  passage  in  the  Gospels. 
The  stringer) cy  of  the  Catholic  doctrine,  which  forbids  the 
dissolution  of  marriage  even  in  the  case  of  adidtery,  ha.« 
Ijeen  considerably  relaxed  by  modern  legislation,  and  therp 
can,  I  think,  be  little  doubt  that  further  steps  will  yet  be 
taken  in  the  same  direction ;  but  the  vast  change  that  wa.s 
effected  in  both  practice  and  theory  since  the  unlimiterl 
licence  of  the  Pagan  Empii-e  must  be  manifest  to  all. 

It  was  essential,  or  at  least  very  important,  that  a  union 
which  was  so  solemn  and  so  irrevocable  should  be  freely 
contracted.  The  sentiment  of  the  Roman  patriots  towards 
the  close  of  the  Republic  was  that  marriage  should  Ki 
regarded  as  a  means  of  providing  children  for  the  St^ito,  and 
should  be  entoi-ed  into  as  a  matter  of  duty  with  that  view, 
and  the  laws  of  Augustus  had  imposed  many  disqualifications 
on  those  who  abstained  from  it.  Both  of  these  inducement? 
to  marriage  passed  away  under  the  influence  of  Christianity. 
The  popular  sentiment  disappeared  with  the  decline  of  civic 
virtues.  The  laws  were  rescinded  under  the  influence  of  the 
ascetic  enthusiasm  which  made  men  regard  the  state  of 
celibacy  as  pre-eminently  holy. 

There  was  still  one  other  important  condition  to  bo 
attained  by  theologians  in  oivler  to  realise  their  ideal  type  of 


'  Laboulaye,    Hech/^chcs   sur   la    Conditum    civile  et  politique   det 
Femmoi,  pp.  152-158. 


3o4  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    MORALS. 

maiTiage.  It  was  to  prevent  the  members  of  the  Chuich 
from  intei-marrjTJig  witli  those  Avhose  religious  opiniona 
diHered  from  their  own.  Mixed  maiTiages,  it  has  been  truly 
eaid,  may  do  more  than  almost  any  other  influence  to  assiiago 
the  rancour  and  the  asperity  of  sects,  but  it  must  be  added 
that  a  considerable  measure  of  tolerance  must  have  been 
already  attained  before  they  become  possible.  In  a  union  in 
which  each  partner  believes  and  realises  that  the  other  is 
doomed  to  an  eternity  of  misery  there  can  be  no  real 
happiness,  no  sympathy,  no  trust ;  and  a  domestic  agreement 
that  some  of  the  cMldren  shoidd  be  educated  in  one  religion 
and  some  in  the  other  would  be  impossible  when  each  parent 
believed  it  to  be  an  agi*eement  that  some  children  should  be 
doomed  to  hell. 

The  domestic  unhappiness  arising  from  difference's  of 
belief  was  probably  almost  or  altogether  unknown  in  the 
world  before  the  introduction  of  Christianity ;  for,  although 
differences  of  opinion  may  have  before  existed,  the  same 
momentous  consequences- were  not  attached  to  them.  It  has 
been  the  especial  bane  of  periods  of  gi'cat  religious  change, 
Biich  as  the  conversion  of  the  Roman  Empire,  or  the  Re- 
formation, or  our  own  day  when  far  more  serious  questions 
than  those  which  agitated  the  sixteenth  century  are  occupying 
the  attention  of  a  large  proportion  of  thinkers  and  scholars, 
and  when  the  deep  and  widening  chasm  between  the  religious 
opinions  of  most  highly  educated  men,  and  of  the  immense 
majority  of  women,  is  painfully  apparent.  While  a  multitude 
of  scientific  discoveries,  critical  and  historical  researches,  and 
educational  reforms  have  brought  thinking  men  face  to  face 
with  religious  problems  of  extreme  importance,  women  have 
l>eon  almost  absolutely  excluded  from  their  influence.  Their 
iiiijids  are  usually  by  nature  less  capable  than  those  of  men 
of  impai-tiality  and  suspense,  and  the  almost  complete  omission 
from  female  education  of  those  studies  which  most  discipline 
md  strengthen  the  intellect  increases  the  diffeiionce,  while  at 


THE    POSITION    OF    "WOME.V.  355 

the  same  time  it  has  been  \isually  made  a  main  object  to 
imbue  them  with  a  passionate  faith  in  traditional  opinions, 
and  to  preserve  them  from  all  contact  with  opposing  Adews. 
But  contracted  loiowledge  and  imperfect  sympathy  are  not 
the  sole  fruits  of  this  education.     It  has  always  been  the 
[leculiarity  of  a  certain    kind  of   theological  teaching    that 
it  inverts  all  the  normal  principles  of  jiidgment,  and  abso- 
lutely destroys  intellectual  diffidence.     On  other  subjects  we 
find,  if  not  a  respect  for  honest  conAdction,  at  least  some  sense 
of  the  amount  of  knowledge  that  is  requisite  to  entitle  men 
to  express  an  opinion  on  gi-ave  controversies.     A  complete 
ignorance  of  the  subject-matter  of  a  dispute  restrains  the 
confidence  of  dogmatism ;   and  an  ignorant  person,  who  is 
aware  that,  by  much  reading  and  thinking   in  spheres  of 
which  he  has  himself  no  knowledge,  his  educated  neighbour 
has  modified  or  rejected  opinions  which  that  ignoi'ant  person 
had  been  taught,  will,  at  least  if  he  is  a  man  of  sense  or 
modesty,  abstain  from   compassionating  the  benighted  con- 
dition of  his  more  instructed   friend.     But   on    theological 
questions  this  has  never  been  so.     Unfaltering  belief  being 
taught  as  the  first  of  duties,  and  all  doubt  being  usually 
stigmatised  as    criminal    or    damnable,    a  state  of  mind  is 
formed  to  which  we  find  no  parallel  in  other  fields.     Many 
men  and  most  women,  though  completely  ignorant   of  the 
very  rudiments  of  biblical  criticism,  historical  research,  or 
scientific  discoveries,  though  they  ^have  never  read  a  single 
page,  or  understood  a  single  proposition  of  the  writings  oi' 
those  whom  they  condemn,  and  have  absolutely  no  rational 
knowledge  either  of  the  arguments  by  which  their  faith  is 
defended,  or  of  those  by  which  it  has  been  impugned,  will 
nevertheless   adjudicate   with   the   utmost   confidence   upon 
every  polemical  question ;  denounce,  hate,  pity,  or  pray  for 
I  he  conversion  of  all  who  dissent  from  what  thoy  have  Ic-iin. 
taught;  assume,  as  a  matter  beyond  the  fainte.st  possibility  of 
doubt,  that  the  opinions  they  have  received  without  enquiry 


356  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

must  be  true,  and  that  the  opiuions  which  others  have 
arrived  at  by  enquiiy  must  be  false,  and  make  it  a  main 
object  of  their  lives  to  assail  what  they  call  heresy  in  every 
way  in  their  power,  except  by  examining  the  grounds  on 
which  it  rests.  It  is  probable  that  the  great  majority  of 
voices  that  iwell  the  clamour  against  every  book  which  is 
regarded  as  heretical  are  the  voices  of  those  who  would  deem 
it  criminal  even  to  open  that  book,  or  to  enter  into  any  real, 
searching,  and  impartial  investigation  of  the  subject  to  which 
it  relates.  Innumerable  pulpits  support  this  tone  of  thought, 
and  represent,  with  a  fervid  rhetoric  well  fitted  to  excite  the 
nerves  and  imaginations  of  women,  the  deplorable  condition 
of  all  who  deviate  from  a  certain  type  of  opinions  or  of 
emotions ;  a  })lind  propagandism  or  a  secret  wretchedness 
penetrates  into  countless  households,  poisoning  the  peace  of 
families,  chUliag  the  mutual  confidence  of  husband  and  wife, 
adding  immeasurably  to  the  difficulties  which  every  searcher 
into  truth  has  to  encounter,  and  diffusing  far  and  wide 
intellectual  timidity,  disingenuousness,  and  hypocrisy. 

These  domestic  divisions  became  very  apparent  in  the 
period  of  the  conversion  of  the  Eoman  Empire ;  and  a  naturaf 
desire  to  guard  intact  the  orthodoxy  and  zeal  of  the  converts, 
and  to  prevent  a  continual  discordance,  stimulated  the 
Fathers  in  their  vei'y  vehement  denunciations  of  all  mixed 
marriages.  We  may  also  trace  in  these  denunciations  the 
outline  of  a  very  singular  doctrine,  which  was  afterwards 
suffered  to  fall  into  obscuiity,  but  was  revived  in  the  last 
centuiy  in  England  in  a  curious  and  learned  work  of  the 
nonjuror  Dodwell.'     The  union  of  Christ  and  His  Church 


''A  discourse  concerning  the  1702.)  The  reader  may  fmd  some- 
obligation  to  marry  within  the  true  thing  about  Dodwell  in  Macauliy'a 
communion,  following  from  their  Hist,  of  Evpland,  ch.  xiv. ;  but 
style  {sic)  of  being  called  a  holy  JIacaulay,  who  does  not  appear 
seed.'  This  rare  discourse  is  ap-  to  have  known  DodwulTs  master- 
pended  to  a  sermon  against  mixed  piece — his  dissertation />c /'awa^o/f 
niarriageH    ]>3'    Leslie.      (London,  jVflir/yntwi.which  isoueof 'he  fino-it 


THE   POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  357 

nad  been  represented  as  a  mai-riage ;  and  this  image  \ras  not 
regarded  as  a  mere  metaphor  or  comparison,  but  as  intimat- 
ing a  mysterious  unity,  which,  though  not  susceptible  of  any 
very  clear  definition,  was  not  on  that  account  the  less  real. 
Chiistians  were  the  '  limbs  of  Christ,'  and  for  them  to  join 
themselves  in  marriage  with  those  who  were  not  of  the 
Christian  fold  was  literally,  it  was  said,  a  specie?  of  adultery 
or  fornication.  The  intermarriage  of  the  Israelites,  the 
chosen  seed  of  the  ancient  world,  with  the  Gentiles,  had  been 
described  in  the  Old  Testament  as  an  act  of  impurity ;  •  and 
in  the  opinion  of  some,  at  least,  of  the  Fathers,  the  Christian 
community  occupied  towards  the  unbelierers  a  position 
analogous  to  that  which  the  Jews  had  occupied  towards  the 
Gentiles.  St.  Cyprian  denounced  the  crime  of  those  '  who 
prostitute  the  limbs  of  Christ  in  maii-iage  with  the  Gentiles.'  ^ 
Tertulhan  described  the  intermarriage  as  fornication ;  ^  and 
after  the  triumph  of  the  Chui-ch,  the  intermarriage  of  Jews 
and  Christians  was  made  a  capital  offence,  and  was  stigma- 
tised by  the  law  as  adultery.^  The  civil  law  did  not 
prohibit  the  orthodox  from  intermariying  with  heretics,  but 
many  coimcils  in  strong  terms  denounced  such  marriages  as 
criminal. 

The  extreme  sanctity  attributed  to  virginity,  the  absolute 
condemnation  of  all  forms  of  sexual  connection  other  than 
marriage,  and  the  formation  and  gi-adual  realisation  of  the 
Christian  conception  of  marriage  as  a  permanent  union  of  a 


Bpecimens  of  criticism  of  his  time —  Dc  Lapsix. 

and -vvho  only  knew  the  di.'course  on  * 'Hjec    cum    ita   bint,   fideios 

marriages  Ly  extracts,  has,  I  think,  Gentilium    matrimonla   subeuntes 

done  him  considerable  injustice.  stiipri  rcos  esse  constat,  et  arccndos 

*  Dodwell  relies  mainly  upon  ab  omni  communicationo  fraterni- 

thisfact,  and  especially  upon  Ezra's  tatis.' — Tert.  Ad  Uxor.  ii.  3. 

having  treated  these  man-i;iges  as  *  See  on  this  la-w,  and  on  the 

essentially  null.  many   councils   ■which    condcmni>d 

'  '  Jungere  cum  infidelibiis  vin-  the    marriage    of    orthodox    -with 

eulnm  matrimonii,  prostituere  gen-  heretics,  Bingham,  Antiq.  x.xii.  2, 

tilibus  membra  Christi.' — Cyprian,  §§  1-2. 

55 


358  HISTOIJY    OF    ELT1K)PEAN    MORALS. 

man  and  woman  of  the  same  religious  opinions,  consecrated 
by  solemn  religious  sendees,  carrying  with,  it  a  deep  religious 
signification,  and  dissoluble  only  by  death,  were  the  most 
obidous  signs  of  Christian  iixlluence  in  the  sphere  of  ethica 
we  are  examining.  Another  very  important  result  of  the 
neAV  i-eligion  was  to  raise  to  a  far  gi-eater  honour  than  they 
had  pi-evioirsly  possessed,  the  qualities  in  which  women 
peculiarly  excel. 

There  are  few  more  curions  subjects  of  enquiry  than  the 
distinctive  differences  between  the  sexes,  and  the  manner  in 
which  those  differences  have  affected  the  ideal  types  of  dif- 
ferent ages,  nations,  philosoj>hies,  and  religions.  Physically, 
men  have  the  indisputable  supeiiority  in  strength,  and 
women  in  beauty.  Intellectually,  a  certain,  inferiority  of 
the  female  sex  can  hardly  be  denied  when  we  i-emember  how 
almost  exclusively  the  foremost  places  in  every  department 
of  science,  literature,  and  art  have  been  occupied  by  men, 
how  infinitesimal ly  small  is  the  number  of  women  who  have 
shown  in  any  form  the  very  highest  order  of  genius,  how 
many  of  the  greatest  men  have  achieved  their  gi^atncss  in 
defiance  of  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  and  how  com- 
p'.ete'y  women  have  failed  in  obtaining  the  first  position, 
even  in  music  or  painting,  for  the  cultivation  of  which  their 
circumstances  would  appear  most  propitious.  It  is  as  im- 
possible to  find  a  female  Raphael,  or  a  female  Handel,  as  a 
female  Shakspeare  or  Newton.  Women  ai-e  intellectually 
more  desultory  and  volatile  than  men  ;  they  are  more  occu- 
pied with  particular  instances  than  with  general  ]>rinciples  ; 
they  judge  i-ather  by  intuitive  j^erceptions  than  by  deliberate 
reasoning  or  past  experience.  They  are,  however,  usually 
su]>erior  to  men  in  nimblcness  and  rapidity  of  thought,  and  in 
the  gift  of  tact  or  the  power  of  seizing  speedily  and  faithfully 
the  liner  inflexions  of  feeling,  and  they  have  therefoi-e  often 
attained  veiy  great  eminence  in  convei-sation,  as  letter- 
winters,  a.s  acti*es.ses,  and  as  novelists. 


THE    POSITION    01;'    "WOMEN.  359 

Morally,  the  general  superiority  of  women  over  men,  is, 
I  think,  iinquestionahle.  If  we  take  the  somewhat  coarse 
and  inadequate  criterion  of  poKce  statistics,  we  find  that, 
while  the  male  and  female  populations  are  nearly  the  same 
in  number,  the  crimes  committed  by  men  are  usually  i-ather 
more  than  five  times  as  numerous  as  those  committed  by 
women  ;^  and  although  it  may  be  justly  observed  that  men, 
as  the  stronger  sex,  and  the  sex  upon  whom  the  burden  of 
Bupportiag  the  family  is  thrown,  have  more  temptations  than 
women,  it  must  be  remembered,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
extreme  poverty  which  verges  upon  starvation  is  most  com- 
mon amonsT  women,  whose  means  of  livelihood  are  most 
restricted,  and  whose  earnings  are  smallest  and  most  pre- 
carious. Self-sacrifice  is  the  most  conspicuous  element  of  a 
virtuous  and  religious  character,  and  it  is  certainly  far  less 
common  amoncr  men  than  among  women,  whose  whole  lives 
are  usually  spent  in  yielding  to  the  will  and  consulting  the 
pleasures  of  another.  There  are  two  gi-eat  departments  of 
virtue :  the  impulsive,  or  that  which  springs  spontaneously 
from  the  emotions;  and  the  deliberative,  or  that  which  is 
performed  in  obedience  to  the  sense  of  duty  ;  and  in  both  of 
these  I  imagine  women  are  superior  to  men.  Their  sensi- 
bility is  greater,  they  are  more  chaste  both  in  thought  and 
act,  more  tender  to  the  erring,  more  compassionate  to  the 
sufierincr,  more  afiectionate  to  all  about  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  those  who  have  traced  the  course  of  the  wives  of  the 
poor,  and  of  many  who,  though  in  narrow  circumstonces, 

'  Many  curious  statistics  ilhis-  statistics  of  crime  are  absolutely 
trating  this  fact  are  given  by  M.  decisive  on  the  question  of  the  com- 
Bonneville  do  Marsangy — a  Portu-  parative  morality  of  tlio  sexes,  ami 
guese  writer  who  was  counsellorof  also,  if  he  had  not  thought  it  duo 
the  Imperial  Court  at  Paris — in  to  his  ofHcial  position  to  talk  in  a 
hia  £/ude  siir  la  Morali/e  comparec  rather  grotesque  strain  about  the 
de  la  Fcmme  et  del' Homme.  (Paris,  regeneration  and  glorificiition  of 
1882.)  The  writer  would  have  the  sex  in  the  person  of  the  Em- 
done  better  if  he  had  not  main-  press  Eugenie, 
taincd,  in  lawyer  fashion,  that  the 


360  HISTORY    OF    ECl.OPEAX    MORALS. 

can  hardly  be  called  poor,  "will  probably  admit  that  in  no 
other  class  do  we  so  often  find  entire  lives  spent  in  daily  per- 
sistent self-denial,  in  the  patient  endurance  of  countless  trials, 
in  the  ceaseless  and  deliberate  sacrifice  of  their  own  enjoy- 
ments to  the  well-being  or  the  prospects  of  othei-s.  Women, 
however,  though  less  prone  than  men  to  intemperance  and 
brutality,  are  in  general  more  addicted  to  the  petty  forms  of 
vanity,  jealousy,  spitefulness,  and  ambition,  and  they  are 
also  inferior  to  men  in  active  courage.  In  the  coiirage  of 
endurance  they  are  commonly  superior ;  but  their  passive 
courage  is  not  so  much  fortitude  which  bears  and  defies,  as 
resignation  which  beai-s  and  bends.  In  the  ethics  of  intellect 
they  are  decidedly  inferior.  To  repeat  an  expression  I  have 
already  employed,  women  very  rarely  love  truth,  though 
they  love  passionately  what  they  call  '  the  truth,'  or  opinions 
they  have  received  from  others,  and  hate  vehemently  those 
who  differ  from  them.  They  are  little  capable  of  impai-tiality 
or  of  doubt ;  their  thinking  is  chiefly  a  mode  of  feeling ; 
though  very  generous  in  their  acts,  they  are  rarely  generous 
in  theu"  opinions  or  in  their  judgments.  They  persuade 
i-ather  than  convince,  and  value  belief  rather  as  a  source  of 
consolation  than  as  a  faithful  expression  of  the  reality  of 
things.  They  are  less  capable  than  men  of  perceiving  quali- 
fying circumstances,  of  admitting  the  existence  of  elements 
of  good  in  systems  to  which  they  are  opposed,  of  distinguish- 
ing the  personal  chai-actcr  of  an  opponent  from  the  opinions 
he  maiuLains.  Men  lean  most  to  justice  and  women  to 
mercy.  Men  excel  in  energy,  self-reliance,  perseverance,  and 
magnanimity  ;  women  in  humility,  gentleness,  modesty,  and 
endurance.  The  realising  imagination  which  causes  us  to 
pity  and  to  love  is  more  sensitive  in  women  than  in  men, 
and  it  is  especially  more  capable  of  dwelling  on  the  unseen. 
Their  religious  or  devotional  realisations  are  incontestably 
more  \'iTid ;  and  it  is  probable  that,  while  a  father  is  most 
moved  by  the  death  of  a  child  in  his  presence,  a  n\othef 


THE   POSITION   OF   ■S^'OME^^  S61 

^'enerally  feels  most  the  death  of  a  child  in  some  distant  land. 
But,  though  more  intense,  the  sympathies  of  "women  are  com- 
monly less  wide  than  those  of  men.  Their  imaginations 
individualise  more ;  their  affections  are,  in  consequence,  con- 
centrated rather  on  leaders  than  on  causes ;  and  if  they  cai-fl 
for  a  gi'eat  cause,  it  is  generally  because  it  is  represented  liy 
a  great  man,  or  connected  with  some  one  whom  they  love. 
In  politics,  their  enthusiasm  is  more  naturally  loyalty  than 
patriotism,  In  history,  they  are  even  more  inclined  than 
men  to  dwell  exclusively  iipon  biogi-aphical  incidents  or 
characteristics  as  distinguished  from  the  march  of  general 
causes.  In  benevolence,  they  excel  in  charity,  which  alle- 
viates individual  suffering,  rather  than  in  philanthropy, 
which  deals  with  large  masses  and  is  more  frequently  em- 
ployed in  preventing  than  in  allaying  calamity. 

It  was  a  remark  of  Winckelmann  that  '  the  supi  eme 
beauty  of  Greek  art  is  rather  male  than  female ; '  and  the 
justice  of  this  remark  has  been  amply  corroborated  by  the 
greater  knowledge  we  have  of  late  years  attained  of  the 
works  of  the  Phidian  period,  in  which  art  achieved  ila 
highest  perfection,  and  in  which,  at  the  same  time,  force  and 
freedom,  and  masculine  gi-andeur,  were  its  pre-eminent 
characteristics.  A  similar  obserA'ation  may  be  made  of  the 
moral  ideal  of  which  ancient  art  was  simply  the  expression. 
In  antiquity  the  virtues  that  were  most  admired  were  almost 
exclusively  those  which  are  distinctively  masculine.  Courage, 
self-assertion,  magnanimity,  and,  above  all,  patriotism,  were 
the  leading  featiu'cs  of  the  ideal  type  ;  and  chastity,  modesty, 
and  charity,  the  gentler  and  the  domestic  virtues,  which  are 
especially  feminine,  were  greatly  undervalued.  With  the 
single  exception  of  conjugal  fidelity,  none  of  the  virtues  that 
were  very  highly  prized  were  virtues  distinctively  or  pre- 
eminently feminine.  With  this  exception,  nearly  all  the 
most  illustrious  women  of  antiquity  wei-e  illustrious  chiefly 
bocaiise  they  overcame  the  natural  conditions  of  their  sex. 


3t)2  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

It  is  a  cliaracteristic  fact  that  the  favourite  female  ideal  of 
the  artists  appears  to  have  been  the  Amazon.*  We  may 
admire  the  Spartan  mother,  and  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi,- 
repressing  every  sign  of  grief  when  their  childi-en  were 
sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  their  country,  we  may  wonder  at 
the  majestic  courage  of  a  Porcia  and  an  Arria;  but  we  extol 
them  chiefly  because,  being  women,  they  emancipated  them- 
selves from  the  frailty  of  their  sex,  and  displayed  an  heroic 
fortitude  worthy  of  the  strongest  and  the  bravest  of  men. 
We  may  bestow  an  equal  admiration  upon  the  noble  devo- 
tion and  charity  of  a  St.  Elizabeth  of  Hungary,  or  of  a  Mi's. 
Fry,  but  we  do  not  admire  them  because  they  displayed  these 
virtues,  although  they  Avere  women,  for  we  feel  that  their 
virtues  wei'e  of  the  kind  which  the  female  nature  is  most 
fitted  to  produce.  The  cliange  fi'om  the  heroic  to  the  saintly 
ideal,  from  the  ideal  of  Paganism  to  the  ideal  of  Christianity, 
was  a  change  from  a  type  which  was  essentially  male  to  one 
which  was  essentially  feminine.  Of  all  the  great  schools  of 
philosophy  no  other  reflected  so  faithfully  the  Roman  con- 
ception of  moral  excellence  as  Stoicism,  and  the  greiitest 
Roman  exponent  of  Stoicism  summed  up  its  character  in  a 
single  sentence  when  he  pronounced  it  to  be  beyond  all  other 
sects  the  most  emphatically  masculine.  ^  On  the  other  hand, 
an  ideal  type  in  which  meekness,  gentleness,  patience, 
humility,  faith,  and  love  are  the  most  prominent  features,  is 
not  natui-ally  male  but  female.  A  reason  proliably  deeper 
than  the  historical  ones  which  are  commonly  alleged,  why 
sculpture  has  always  been  peculiarly  Pagan  and  painting 
peculiarly  Christian,  may  be  found  in  the  fact,  that  sculpture 
is  especially  suited  to  represent  male  beauty,  or  the  beauty  of 
strength,  and  painting  female  beauty,  or  the  beauty  of  soft- 


'  Seo  Pliny,  Hist.   Xat.  xxxiv.  toresse,  quantum  inter  focminas  et 

19.  mans  non  immerito  dixerim.'  — /)< 

*  '  Tantum  inter  Stoicos,  Serene,  Cim.st.  Scq'iciilis,  cap.  i. 
at  ccl  aros  sapieuliam  profess^  in- 


THE    POSITION    OF    ATOMEN.  363 

ness ;  and  that  Pagan  sentiment  was  cliieHy  a  glorification 
of  the  masculine  qualities  of  strength,  and  courage,  and  con- 
Bcious  vii-tue,  while  Chi'istian  sentiment  is  chiefly  a  glorifica- 
tion of  the  feminine  quaUties  of  gentleness,  humility,  and 
love.  The  painters  whom  the  religious  feeling  of  Christen- 
dom has  recognised  as  the  most  faithful  exponents  of  Chris- 
tian sentiment  have  always  been  those  who  infused  a  large 
measure  of  feminine  beauty  even  into  their  male  characters  ; 
and  we  never,  or  scarcely  ever,  find  that  the  same  artist  has 
been  conspicuously  successful  in  delineating  both  Christian 
and  Pagan  types.  Michael  Angelo,  whose  genius  loved  to 
expatiate  on  the  sublimity  of  strength  and  defiance,  failed 
signally  in  his  representations  of  the  Christian  ideal ;  and 
Perugino  was  equally  unsuccessful  when  he  sought  to  pour- 
tray  the  features  of  the  hei-oes  of  antiquity.'  The  position 
that  was  gi-adually  assigned  to  the  Virgin  as  the  female  ideal 
in  the  belief  and  the  devotion  of  Christendom,  was  a  conse- 
cration or  an  expression  of  the  new  vaHie  that  was  attached 
to  the  feminine  virtues. 

The  general  auperioiity  of  women  to  men  in  the  strengtli 
of  their  reHsioup  emotions,  and  their  natural  attraction  to  a 
religion  which  made  personal  attachment  to  its  Founder  its 
central  duty,  ai^d  which  imparted  an  unprecedented  dignity 
and  afibrded  an  unprecedented  scope  to  their  characteristic 
virtues,  account;  for  the  very  conspicuous  position  that  female 
influence  assu^aed  in  the  gi-eat  work  of  the  conversion  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  In  no  other  important  movement  of  thought 
was  it   so   powerful  or  so   acknowledged.      In  the  ages  of 


'  Tills  is  Trell  illustrated,  on  tlie  at  Rome;  and,    on  the  other  eide, 

one  side,  by  the  most  repulsive  re-  by   the  frescoes   of  Perugino,   at 

presputatious  of  Christ,  l.y  Michael  Perugia,   representing    the    great 

Angelo,  in  the  great  fresco  in  the  sages  of  Paganism.     The  figui-e  of 

Sistine  Chapel  (so  inferior  to  the  Cafo,    in    the    latter,    almost    ap- 

Chri?t  of  Orgagna,  at  Pisa,  from  proachcs,  as  well  as  I  remember, 

^^■hich  it  was  partly  imitated),  and  the  type  of  St.  John, 
in  marl)le  in  the  Minerva  Church 


364  HISTORY    OF    EUROrEAN    JIOIULS. 

persecution  female  figures  occupy  many  of  the  foremost 
places  in  the  ranks  of  martyrdom,  and  Pagan  and  Clu'istian 
writers  alike  attest  the  alacrity  with  which  women  flocked 
to  the  Church,  and  the  influence  they  exei'cised  in  its  favour 
over  the  male  members  of  their  families.  The  mothers  of 
St.  Augustine,  St.  Chrysostom,  St.  Basil,  St.  Gregory 
Nazianzen,  and  Theodoret,  had  all  a  leading  part  in  the 
conversion  of  their  sons.  St.  Helena,  the  mother  of 
Constantine,  Flacilla,  the  wife  of  Theodosius  the  Great,  St. 
Pulcheria,  the  sister  of  Theodosius  the  Younger,  and  Placidia, 
the  mother  of  Valentinian  III.,  wei"e  among  the  most 
conspicuous  defenders  of  the  faith.  In  the  heretical  sects  tlie 
same  zeal  was  manifested,  and  Arius,  Priscillian,  and 
Montanus  were  all  supported  by  troops  of  zealous  female 
devotees.  In  the  career  of  asceticism  women  took  a  part 
little  if  at  all  inferior  to  men,  while  in  the  organisation  of 
the  great  work  of  charity  they  were  pre-eminent.  For  no 
other  field  of  active  la1)oiir  are  women  so  admirably  suited  aa 
for  this  ;  and  although  we  may  trace  from  the  earliest  period, 
in  many  creeds  and  ages,  individual  instances  of  their 
influence  m  allaying  the  sufierings  of  the  distressed,'  it  may 


'  In  thiit  fine  description  of  a  desolated  Sicily  at  the  time  of  the 

virtuous  •woman  which  is  ascribed  Punic   wars,    -we   find    a    touching 

to  tlie  mother  of  King  Lemuel,  wo  trait    of    the    pamo    kind.       The 

read:  '  She  strotcheth  out  her  hand  revolt  was  provoked  by  the  rruel- 

to    the    poor  ;    yea,    she    reaeheth  ties  of  a  ricli  nnm,  named  Dumo- 

forth    her   hands    to    the    needy.'  philus,    and    his    wife,   who   were 

(Proverbs     xxxi.    20.)       I     have  massacred   with   circumstances  of 

already    quoted    from    Xenophon  great    atrocity;     but    the    slaves 

tiie   beautiful    description    of    the  preserved  their  daughter  entirely 

(ireek  wife  tending  her  sick  slaves,  unharmed,    for    she    liad    always 

So,   too,   lOuripidrs  rc^presents  tlio  made   it    her  business    to    console 

slaves  of  Alcestis  gathering  with  them  in  their  sorrow,  and  she  hail 

t^^ars    around    the    bed    of    their  won  the  love  of  all.     (Diodor.  Sic. 

dying   mistress,   wlio,    even    then,  Frag,    xxxiv.)      So,    too,    Marcia. 

found   some  kind   word   for    each,  the  wife  of  Cato,  used   to  suckle 

and,  when  she  died,  lamenting  her  her  young  slaves  from  her  breast, 

as  their  second  mother.     (Eurip.  (Plut.  Marc.    Cato.)     I   may  add 

Alccat.)     In  the  ee^^'ile  war  wiiich  the    well-known    sentiment  which 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  365 

be  truly  said  that  tlieii-  instinct  and  genitis  of  charity  liad 
never  before  the  dawn  of  Christianity  obtained  full  scope  f(ir 
action.  Fabiola,  Paula,  Melania,  and  a  host  of  other  noljle 
ladies  devoted  their  time  and  fortunes  mainly  to  founding 
and  extending  vast  institutions  of  chaidty,  some  of  them  of  a 
kind  before  unknown  in  the  world.  The  Empress  Flacilla 
was  accustomed  to  tend  with  her  own  hands  the  sick  in  the 
hospitals,!  and  a  readiness  to  discharge  such  offices  was 
deemed  the  first  duty  of  a  Christian  wife.^  From  age  to  age 
the  impulse  thus  communicated  has  been  felt.  There  hag 
been  no  period,  however  corrupt,  there  has  been  no  Chiu-ch, 
liowever  superstitious,  that  has  not  been  adorned  by  many 
Chi-istian  women  devoting  their  entii-e  lives  to  assuaging  the 
sufferings  of  men;  and  the  mission  of  charity  thus  instituted 
has  not  been  more  efficacious  in  diminishing  the  sum  of  human 
wretchedness,  than  in  promoting  the  moral  dignity  of  those  by 
whom  it  was  conducted. 

Among  the  Collyridian  heretics,  women  were  admitted  to 
the  priesthood.  Among  the  orthodox,  although  this  honour 
was  not  bestowed  upon  them,  they  received  a  religious 
consecration,  and  discharged  some  minor  ecclesiastical  func- 
tions under  the  name  of  deaconesses.^  This  order  nuty  be 
traced  to  the  Apostolic  period.*  It  consisted  of  elderly 
virgins,  who  were  set  apart  by  a  formal  ordination,  and  were 
employed  in  assisting  as  catechists  and  attendants  at  the 
baptism  of  women,  in  A'isiting  the  sick,  ministering  to  martyrs 


Virgil  puts  in  the  mouth  of  Dido:  tullian,  Ad  Uxorem. 

'  Haud   ignara  mail   miseris   sue-  *  See,   upon    the.  deaconesses, 

currt'.re  disco.'     There  are,  doubt-  Bingham's    Christian  Antiijuitiis, 

less,   many   other   touches    of   the  book    ii.    eh.    22,    and    Ludlow's 

same   kind    in    ancient    liter.iture,  Wommis     Work    in    the    Chi'rch. 

some   of  whicli  may  occur  to  my  The    latter   author   argues    elabo- 

rcaders.  rately  that  t lie '■widows  '  were  aA 

'  Theodoret.,  v.  19.  the  same  as  the  deaconesses. 

'Seethe  beautiful  de.«cripti<'n  <  Phcebe     (Kom.     xvi.     1)     \» 

pf  the   functions   of    a   Cliristian  described  as  a  Si'iKovos. 
woman  in  tlie  second  book  of  Ter- 


366  HISTORY    OF    EUROPFAN    MORALS, 

in  prison,  preserving  order  in  tlie  congregations,  and  ac* 
conipanying  and  presenting  women  who  desired  an  interview 
with  the  bishop.  It  would  appear,  from  the  evidence  of 
some  councils,  that  abuses  gradually  crept  into  this  institution, 
and  the  deaconesses  at  last  faded  into  simple  nuns,  but  they 
were  still  in  existence  in  the  East  in  the  twelfth  centuiy. 
Besides  these,  widows,  when  they  had  been  but  once  married, 
were  treated  with  peculiar  honour,  and  were  made  the 
sjiecial  recipients  of  the  chai-ity  of  the  CJhui'ch.  Women 
advanced  in  years,  who,  either  from  their  suigle  life  or  from 
bereavement,  have  been  left  without  any  male  protector  in 
the  world,  have  always  been  peculiarly  deserving  of  com- 
miseration. With  less  strength,  and  commonly  with  less 
means,  and  less  knowledge  of  the  world  than  men,  they  ai'e 
liable  to  contiact  certain  peculiarities  of  mind  and  manner  to 
which  an  excessive  amount  of  ridicule  has  been  attached,  and 
age  in  most  cases  furnishes  them  with  very  little  to 
compensate  for  the  charms  of  which  it  has  deprived  them. 
The  weight  and  dignity  of  matured  wisdom,  which  make 
the  old  age  of  one  sex  so  venerable,  are  more  rarely  found 
in  that  of  the  other,  and  even  physical  beauty  is  more 
frequently  the  characteristic  of  an  old  man  than  of  an  old 
woman.  The  Church  laboured  steadily  to  cast  a  halo  of 
reverence  around  this  period  of  woman's  life,  and  its  I'eligious 
exercises  have  done  veiy  much  to  console  and  to  occupy  it. 

In  accordance  with  those  ideas,  the  Christian  IcgLslatoi-s 
contributed  largely  to  improve  the  legal  position  of  widows  in 
i*espect  to  property,'  and  Justinian  gave  mothers  the  giiardij^n- 


'  A  vory  able  wrter,  who  takes  surviving  tlieir  linsbnnds,  winnirg, 

on     the    ■whole    an    unfavourablo  perluips,  one  of  the  most  nrdiious 

view   of  tlie   influence   of    Chris-  of  its  triumphs  wlien,  alter  exact- 

tianity  on  legishition,  says:   'The  ing  for  two  or  tliroe   c  nturies  an 

provision     for     llie     widow     was  express  promise  from  the  Iiusband 

atlrilnitablc  to  the  exertions  of  file  at   marriage   lo    endow    his    wife, 

Cliurch,   which    never   rehixcd  i;8  it  at  last  succeeded  in  engrafting 

solicitude  for  the  interests  of  wives  the   principle   of    dower    on    thu 


THE    POSITION    OF    WOMEN.  367 

sliip  of  tlieir  cliiklren,  destroying  the  Pagan  rule  tlial 
guardianship  could  only  be  legally  exercised  by  men.'  The 
usual  subservience  of  the  sex  to  ecclesiastical  influence,  the 
numerous  instances  of  rich  widows  devoting  their  for- 
tunes, and  mothers  their  sons,  to  the  Chm-ch,  had  no 
doubt  some  influence  in  securing  the  advocacy  of  the  clergy ; 
but  these  measures  had  a  manifest  importance  in  elevating 
the  position  of  women  who  have  had,  in  Christian  lands,  a 
great,  though  not,  I  think,  altogether  a  beneficial,  influence, 
in  the  early  education  of  their  sons. 

Independently  of  all  legal  enactments,  the  simple  change 
of  the  ideal  type  by  bringing  specially  feminine  vii-tues  into 
the  forefront  was  suflicient  to  elevate  and  ennoble  the  sex. 
The  commanding  position  of  the  medieval  abbesses,  the  gi-eat 
number  of  female  saints,  and  especially  the  revei-ence  bestowed 
upon  the  Virgin,  had  a  similar  efiect.  It  is  remarka])le  that 
the  Jews,  who,  of  the  three  great  nations  of  antiquity, 
cei-tainly  produced  in  history  and  poetry  the  smallest  number 
of  illustrious  women,  should  have  furnished  the  world  with 
its  supreme  female  ideal,  and  it  is  also  a  striking  illustration 
of  the  qualities  which  prove  most  attractive  in  woman  that 
one  of  whom  we  know  nothing  except  her  gentleness  and 
her  sorrow  should  have  exercised  a  magnetic  power  upon 
the  world  incomparably  gi-eater  than  was  exercised  by  the 
most  majestic  female  patriots  of  Paganism.  Whatever  may 
be  thought  of  its  theological  propriety,  there  can  be  little 
doubt  that  the  Catholic  reverence  for  the  Virgin  has  done 
much  to  elevate  and  pui-ify  the  ideal  of  woman,  and  to  soften 
the  manners  of  men.  It  has  had  an  influence  which  the 
worship  of  the  Pagan  goddesses  could  never  possess,  for  these 
had  been  almost  destitute  of  moral  beauty,  and  especially  of 
that  kind   of  moral  beauty   which   is   peculiarly   feminine. 

customary    \a.w    of    all    Western  '  See    Troplong,    Influence   dti 

Europe.' — Maine's  Ancknt  Law,  p.     Chrintianismu    mr    le    Droit,    pp, 
224.  308-310. 


368  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

It  supplied  in  a  gi*eat  measure  tlie  redeeming  and  ennobling 
element  in  that  strange  amalgam  of  religious,  licentious,  and 
military  feeling  which  was  formed  around  women  in  the  age 
of  chivalry,  and  which  no  succeedmg  change  of  habit  or  belief 
has  wholly  destroyed. 

It  can  hardly,  I  think,  be  questioned  that  in  the  gvad 
religious  convulsions  of  the  sixteenth  century  the  feminine 
type  followed  Catholicism,  while  Protestantism  inclined  more 
to  the  masculine  type.  Catholicism  alone  retained  the 
Virgin  worship,  wliich  at  once  reflected  and  sustained  the 
first.  The  skill  with  which  it  acts  upon  the  emotions  by 
music,  and  painting,  and  solemn  architecture,  and  imposing 
pageantry,  its  tendency  to  appeal  to  the  imagination  rather 
than  to  the  reason,  and  to  foster  modes  of  feeling  rather  than 
modes  of  thought,  its  assertion  of  absolute  and  infallible 
certainty,  above  all,  the  manner  in  which  it  teaches  its 
votary  to  thi'ow  himse'.f  perpetually  on  authority,  all  tended 
in  the  same  dnection.  It  is  the  pai-t  of  a  woman  to  lean,  it 
is  the  part  of  a  man  to  stand.  A  i-eligion  which  prescribes 
to  the  distracted  mind  unreasoning  faith  in  an  infallible 
Church,  and  to  the  troubled  conscience  an  imj)licit  trust  in 
an  absolving  priesthood,  has  ever  had  an  especial  attraction 
to  a  feminine  mind.  A  religion  which  recognises  no  authority 
between  man  and  his  Creator,  which  asserts  at  once  the 
dignity  and  the  duty  of  private  judgment,  and  which,  while 
deepening  immeasurably  the  sense  of  incHvidnal  responsibility, 
denudes  religion  of  meretricious  ornaments,  and  of  most 
aesthetic  aids,  is  pre-eminently  a  religion  of  men.  Puritanism 
Is  the  most  masculine  form  that  Christianity  has  yet  assumed. 
Its  most  ilhistrious  teachers  differed  from  the  Catholic 
saints  as  much  in  the  moral  tN^ie  thc^  displayed  as  in  the 
system  of  doctrines  they  held.  Catholicism  commonly  softens, 
while  Protestantism  strengthens,  the  character;  butthe  softness 
of  the  first  often  degenerates  into  weakness,  and  the  strengtli 
of  the  second  into  hardness.     Sincerely  Catholic  nations  are 


THE   POSITION    OF    -WOMEX.  369 

distinguished  for  tlieir  reverence,  for  their  habitual  and  -viAid 
perceptions  of  religious  things,  for  the  warmth  of  their 
emotions,  for  a  certain  amiability  of  disposition,  and  a  certain 
natuiul  com-tesy  and  refuiemeut  of  manner  that  are  in- 
expressibly wiujiing.  Sincerely  Protestant  nations  are  dis- 
tinguished for  their  love  of  truth,  for  their  fii-m  sense  of  duty, 
for  the  strength  and  the  dignity  of  theii-  character.  Loyalty 
and  humility,  which  are  especially  feminine,  flourish  chieHy 
in  the  first;  liberty  and  seLf-assertion  in  the  second.  The 
first  are  most  prone  to  superstition,  and  the  second  to 
fanaticism.  Protestantism,  by  purifying  and  dignifying 
mariiage,  conferred  a  great  benefit  upon  women ;  but  it  must 
be  owned  that  neither  in  its  ideal  type,  nor  in  the  general 
tenor  of  its  doctrines  or  devotions,  is  it  as  congenial  to  then- 
nature  as  the  religion  it  superseded. 

Its  complete  suppression  of  the  conventual  system  was 
also,  I  tliink,  very  far  from  a  benefit  to  women  or  to  the 
world.  It  would  be  impossible  to  conceive  any  institution 
more  needed  than  one  which  would  furnish  a  shelter  for  the 
many  women  who,  from  poverty,  or  domestic  unliappiness, 
or  other  causes,  find  themselves  cast  alone  and  unprotected 
into  the  battle  of  life,  which  would  secure  them  from  the 
temptations  to  gross  vice,  and  from  the  extremities  of  suffer- 
ing, and  would  convert  them  into  agents  of  active,  organised, 
and  intelligent  charity.  Such  an  institution  would  be  almost 
free  from  the  objections  that  may  justly  be  urged  against 
monasteries,  which  withdi-aw  strong  men  from  manual  labour, 
and  it  would  largely  mitigate  the  difficulty  of  providing  labour 
and  means  of  UvelUiood  for  sing^.e  women,  which  is  one  of 
the  most  pressing,  in  our  own  day  one  of  the  most  appalUnw, 
of  social  problems.  Most  unhappily  for  mankind,  this  noble 
conception  was  from  the  first  perverted.  Institutions  that 
might  have  liad  an  incalculal)le  philanthropic  value  woio 
based  upon  the  principle  of  asceticism,  which  makes  tho 
sacrifice,  not  the  promotion,  of  earthly  liappiness  its  aim,  and 


370  HISTORY    OF    ECllOrEAN    M01!Al-^. 

binding  vows  produced  much  misery  and  not  a  little  vice. 
The  convent  became  the  perjjetual  prison  of  the  daughter 
whom  a  father  was  disinclined  to  endow,  or  of  young  gii-ls 
who,  under  the  impulse  of  a  transient  enthusiasm,  or  of  a 
transient  soiTow,  took  a  stej)  m  hich  thej-  never  could  retrace, 
and  useless  penances  and  contemptible  superstitions  wasted 
the  energies  that  might  have  been  most  beneficially  employed. 
Still  it  is  very  doubtfid  whether,  even  in  the  most  degi-aded 
period,  the  convents  did  not  ju-event  moie  misery  than  they 
inflicted,  and  in  the  Sisters  of  Charity  the  religious  orders  of 
Catholicism  have  produced  one  of  the  most  perfect  of  all  the 
types  of  womanhood.  There  is,  as  I  conceive,  no  fact  in 
modern  history  more  deeply  to  be  deplored  than  that  the 
Reformei-s,  who  in  matters  of  doctrinal  innovations  were 
often  so  timid,  should  have  levelled  to  the  dust,  instead  of 
attemj»ting  to  regenerate,  the  whole  conventual  s}stem  of 
Catholicism. 

The  course  of  these  observations  has  led  me  to  transgress 
the  limits  assigned  to  this  history.  It  has  been,  however, 
ray  object  through  this  entire  work  to  exhi])it  not  only  the 
nature  but  also  the  significance  of  the  moral  facts  I  have 
recorded,  by  showing  how  they  have  affected  the  subsequent 
changes  of  society.  I  will  conclude  this  chapter,  and  this 
work,  })y  observing  that  of  all  the  departments  of  ethics 
the  cpiestions  concerning  the  relations  of  the  sexes  and  the 
proper  position  of  women  are  those  ui)on  the  future  of  which 
there  rests  the  greatest  uncertainty.  History  tells  us  that, 
as  civilisation  advances,  the  charity  of  men  becomes  at  once 
warmer  and  more  expan.sivfe,  their  habitual  conduct  both 
more  gentle  and  more  temperate,  and  their  love  of  truth 
nioio  sincere  ;  Imt  it  also  warns  us  that  in  periods  of  great 
intellectual  enlightenment,  and  of  givat  social  refinement, 
tlie  relations  of  the  sexes  have  often  been  most  anarchical. 
It  is  impossil)le  to  deny  that  the  form  which  these  relations' 
at  present  assume  has  been  very  largely  jifTected  by  specia] 


THE    rOSITION    OK    UOMEN.  371 

religious   teaching,   whicli,  foi'   good   or   for   ill,   is   rapidly 
waning  in  the  sphere  of  government,  and  also,  that  certaio 
recent   revolutions   in    economical   opinion    and    industrial 
enterprise  have  a  most  profound  bearing  upon  the  subject. 
Tho  belief  that  a   rapid   increase   of  ]iopulation   is   always 
f.'minently  beneficial,  which  was  long  accepted  as  an  axiom 
by  both  statesmen  and  mora.lists,  and  was  made  the  basis  of 
a  large  part  of  the  legislation  of  the  first  and  of  the  decisions 
of  the  second,  has  now  been  replaced  by  the  directly  o})posite 
doctrine,  that  the  very  highest  interest  of  society  is  not  to 
stimulate   but   to    restrain   multiplication,    diminishing    the 
number  of  marriages  and  of  children.      In  consecpience  of 
this  belief,  and  of  the  many  factitious  wants  that  accompany 
a  luxurious  civilisation,  a  very  large  and  increasiiig  ])ropor- 
tion  of  women  are  left  to  make  their  way  in  life  without  any 
male  protector,  and  the  difficulties  they  have  to  encounter 
through  physical  weakness  have  been  most  unnaturally  and 
most  fearfully  aggravated  by  laws  and  customs  which,  rest- 
ing on  the  old  assumption  that  every  woman  should  be  a 
wife,  habitually  depi-ive  them  of  the  pecuniary  and  educational 
advantages  of  men,  exclude  them  absolutely  from  very  many 
of  the  employments  in  which  they  might  earn  a  subsistence, 
encumber  their  course  in  others  by  a  heai-tless  ridicule  or  by 
a  steady  disapprobation,  and  consign,  in  consc(|UCuce,  many 
thousands  to  the  most  extreme  and  agonising  povei-ty,  and 
perhaps  a  still  larger  number  to  the  paths  of  vice.     At  the 
same  time  a  momentous  revolution,  the  efi'ects  of  which  can 
as  yet  be  but  imperfectly  descried,  has  taken  place  in  the 
chief  spheres  of  female  industry  tliat  remain.     '1  he  progr(«g 
of  machinery  has  destroyed    its   domestic    character.      Tlie 
distalf  has  fallen  from  the  hand.     The  needle  is  being  rapidly 
superseded,  and  the  work  which,  fiom  tho  days  of  Homer  to 
the  present  century,  was  accom]>lishcd  in  the  centre  of  tho 
family,  has  been  transferred  to  the  crowded  manufactory.' 

^  The  results  of  this   change  have  been  treated  by  Miss   P.-irkea 


372  HISTORY    OF    EUROPEAN    MORALS. 

The  probable  consequences  of  these  things  ai-e  among  the 
most  important  questions  that  can  occupy  the  moi-alist  or 
the  philanthropist,  but  they  do  not  fall  within  the  province 
of  the  historian.  That  the  pursuits  and  education  of  women 
will  be  considerably  altered,  that  these  alterations  will  bring 
with  them  some  modifications  of  the  type  of  character,  and 
that  the  prevailing  moral  notions  concerning  the  relations  of 
the  sexes  will  be  subjected  in  many  quarters  to  a  severe  and 
hostile  criticLsm,  may  safely  be  predicted.  Many  wild 
theories  will  doubtless  be  ]iropounded.  Some  real  ethical 
changes  may  perhaps  be  eflecied,  but  these,  if  I  mistake  not, 
can  only  be  within  definite  and  narrow  limits.  He  who 
will  seriously  reflect  upon  our  clear  perceptions  of  the 
difference  between  purity  and  impurity,  upon  the  laws  that 
govern  our  affections,  and  upon  the  interests  of  the  children  ^ 
who  are  born,  may  easHy  conA^ince  himself  that  in  this,  as  in 
all  other  spheres,  there  are  cei-tain  eternal  moral  landmai-ks 
which  nev(5r  can  be  removed. 


in  her  truly  admirable  little  book     better   than  by  any  other  writei 
called  Essays  on   Woman's  Work,     with  whom  I  am  acquainted. 


INDEX. 


ABO 

4  BORTION,  diversities  ot.  moral 

il    judgment    respecting,    i.    92. 

Uistory  of  the  practice  of,  ii.  20, 

24 

Abrjiliam  the  Hermit,  St.,  ii.  110 

Aciicius,    bis    ransom     of    Persian 

slaves,  ii.  72 
A>1ultery,  laws  concerning,  ii.  313 
iEschyhis,    his     views     of    human 
nature,  i.  196.     His  violation  of 
dramatic  probabilities,  229 
Affections,    the,   all  forms  of  self- 
love,  according  to  some  Utilita- 
rians, i.  9.     Subjugationof  the,  to 
the  reason,  taught  by  tho  Stoics, 
&c.,  177, 187.     Considered  by  the 
Stoics   as   a  disease,   188.     Evil 
consecLuences  of  their  suppression, 
191 
Africa,    sacrifices    of    children    to 
Saturn  in,  ii.  '61.     Effect  of  the 
conquest  of  Genseric  of,  82 
Agapse,  or  love  fea.sts,  of  the  Christ- 
ians, how  regarded  by  the  })agans, 
i.  415;  ii.   79.     Excesses  of  the, 
and  their  suppression,  150 
Agnes,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  319 
Agricultural    pursuits,     history    of 
the   decline  of,    in  Italy,  i.  26!^. 
Efforts  to  relieve  the  agriculturists, 
267 
Albigenses,  their  slow  suicides,  ii. 
49 

60 


AMP 

Alexander  the  Great :  effect  of  av. 
career  on  Greek  cosmopolitanism, 
i.  229 

Alexandria,  foundation  of,  i.  23'). 
Effect  of  the  increasing  impor- 
tance of,  on  Eoraan  thought,  319. 
The  Decian  persecution  at,  451. 
Excesses  of  the  Christian  necVi 
of.  ii.  196,  191,  note 

Alexis,  St.,  his  legend,  ii.  322 

Aliinentus,  Cincius,  his  work  written 
in  Greek,  i.  230 

Almsgiving,  effects  of  indiscriminate, 
ii.  90,  91 

Amafanius,  wrote  the  first  Latin 
work  on  philosophy,  i.  175,  tiote 

Ambrose,  St.,  his  miraculous  dream, 
i.  379.  His  dissection  of  tin- 
pagan  theory  of  the  decline  of  the 
Eoman  empire,  409.  His  ransom 
of  Italiaas  from  the  Goths,  ii.  72. 
His  commendation  of  disobedience 
to  parents.  132 

Ameri-an  Indians,  suicide  of  the 
ii.  54 

Ammon,  St.,  his  refusal  t-  wa.>i!i 
himself,  ii.  110.  Deserts  his  wife, 
322 

Amour,  "William  de  St.,  his  denun- 
ciation of  the  mendicant  orders 
ii.  96 

Amphitheatres,  history  and  remain/' 
of  Roman,  i.  273 


374 


INDEX. 


ANA 

Aiiaxaj2;ora!=,  on  the  death  of  his  son, 
i.  191.     On  his  true  country,  201 

Anchorites.  Sec  Ascetics ;  Monasti- 
cism 

Angclo,  Michael,  in  what  he  failed, 
ii.  363 

Anglo-Saxon  nations,  their  yirtues 
and  vices,  i.  153 

AnimalB,  lo^er,  Egyptian  worship 
of,  i.  166,  note.  Humanity  to 
animals  probably  first  advocated 
by  Plutarch,  244.  Animals  em- 
ployed in  the  arena  at  Eome,  280. 
Instances  of  kindness  to,  288.  307. 
Legends  of  the  connection  of  the 
fiaints  and  the  animal  world,  ii. 

161.  Pagan  legends  of  the  in- 
telligence  of  animals,  161,  162. 
Legislative   protection   of   them, 

162.  Views  as  to  the  souls  of 
animals,  16^^.  Moral  duty  of 
kindness  to  animals  taught  by 
pagans,  166.  Legends  in  the 
lives  of  the  saint-s  in  connection 
with  animals,  168.  Progress  in 
modern  times  of  humanity  to 
animals,  172 

Antigonus  of  Socho..  his  doctrine  of 
virtue,  i.  183,  rtole 

Antioch,  charities  of,  ii.  80.  Its 
extreme  vice  and  asceticism,  I. 53 

Antisthencs,  liis  scepticism,  i.  162 

Antoninus,  the  pliilosopher,  his  pre- 
diction, i.  427 

Antoninus  the  Pious,  liis  death, 
i.  207.  His  leniency  towards  the 
Christians,  438,439.  Forged  letter 
of,  439,  nore.     His  charity,  ii.  77 

A  Qtony,  St.,  his  flight  into  tlie  desert, 
ii.  103.  His  mode  of  life,  110. 
His  dislike  to  knowledge,  115. 
Legend  of  his  visit  to  Paul  the 
hermit,  157,  158 

Aphrodite,  the  celestial  and  earthly, 
i.  106 

Apollonius  of  Ty.'in^i,  his  conversa- 
tion with  an  Egyptian  priest  rc- 
Bpecting  the  Greek  and  Egyptian 


A8C 

modes  ot  worshipping  the  ileitj, 
i.  166,  note.  Miracles  attributed 
to  him,  372.  His  humanity  to 
animals,  ii.  165 

Apollonius.  the  merchant,  his  di> 
pensary  for  monks,  ii.  81 

Apuleius.his  condemnation  of  suicii.., 
i.  213.  His  disquisition  on  tho 
doctrine  of  dsemons,  328,  Practi- 
cal form  of  his  philosophy,  329. 
Miracles  attributed  to  him,  372. 
His  defence  of  tooth-powdei,  ii. 
148 

Archytas  of  Tarentum,  his  speech  on 
the  evils  of  sei  suality,  i.  200,  no(» 

Argos,  story  of  the  sons  of  the 
priestess  of  Juno  at,  i.  206 

Arians,  their  charges  against  the 
Catholics,  i.  418.  vote 

Aristides,  his  gentleness,  i.  228 

Aristotle,  his  admission  of  the  prac- 
tice of  abortion,  i.  92  Emphasis 
with  which  he  dwelt  np'in  tiie 
utility  of  virtue.  124.  His  pa- 
triotism, 200.  His  condemnation 
of  suicide,  212.  His  opinions  as 
to  the  duties  of  Greeks  to  bar- 
barians, 229 

Arius,  death  of,  ii.  196 

Arnobius,  on  the  miracles  of  Christ, 
i.  375 

Arrian,  liis  humanity  to  animals, 
ii.  164 

Arsenius,  St.,  lii-;  piiuinces,  ii.  107, 
114,  iiolr.  Pis  anxiety  to  avoid 
distractifins.  125,  iiote 

Ascetics,  tlieir  estimate  of  the 
dreadful  nature  of  isin,  i.  113. 
Decline  of  asceticism  and  evan- 
escence of  tho  moral  notions  of 
which  it  was  the  expression,  113. 
Condition  of  society  to  which  it 
belongs,  130.  Decline  of  tho 
ascetic  and  saintly  qualities  with 
civilisation,  130.  Causes  of  the 
ascetic  movement,  ii.  IQg,  Its 
rapid  extension,  103-105.  Pe- 
nances attriliuted  to  the  saints  of 


INDEX. 


375 


ASB 

the  desert,  107-100  Miseries 
aud  joys  of  the  hermit  life,  113 
et  seq.  Dislike  of  the  monks  to 
knowledge,  115.  Their  hallucina- 
tions, 116.  Kelations  of  female 
devotees  with  the  anchorites,  120. 
Ways  in  which  the  ascetic  life 
affected  both  the  ideal  type  and 
realised  condition  of  morals,  122, 
et  seq.  Extreme  animosity  of 
the  ascetics  to  everything  pagan, 
136,  137.  Decline  of  the  civic 
virtues  caused  by  asctticism,  139. 
Moral  effects  of  asceticism  on  self- 
sacrifice,  1.54,  155.  Moral  beauty 
of  some  of  the  legends  of  the  as- 
cetics, 156.  Legends  of  the  con- 
nection between  the  saints  and 
the  animal  world,  161.  Practical 
form  of  asceticism  in  the  West, 
177.  Influence  of  asceticism  on 
chastity,  319,  320.  On  marriage, 
320.  On  the  estimate  of  women, 
337 
Asella,  story  of  hor  asceticism,  ii. 

133 
Asia    Minor,    destruction    of    the 

churches  of,  ii.  14 
Aspasia,  the  Athenian  courtesan,  ii. 

293 
Asses,  feast  of,  ii.  173 
Association,   Hartley's  doctrine  of, 
i.    22.      Partly    anticipated     by 
Hutcheson  and  Gay,   23.     Illus- 
trations of  the  system  of  associa- 
tion, 26-30.    The  theory,  how  far 
pelfish,  30.       The    es.scntial   and 
characteristicfeature  of  conscience 
M^hoUy   unaccounted   for  by   tiie 
association  of  ideas,  66 
Astrology,  belief  in,  rapidly  gaining 
ground  in  the  time  of  the  elder 
Pliny,  i.  171,  and  note 
Atticus,  his  suicide,  i.  215,  and  note 
Augustine.  St.,  on  original  sin,  i.  209. 
His  belief  in  contemporary  mira- 
cles, 378.     On  the  decline  of  the 
Roman    empire    410.      His    con- 


AVI 

dcmnation  of  virgin  suicides,  ii, 
47 

Augustus,  his  solemn  degradation  of 
the  statue  of  Neptune,  i.  169. 
His  mode  of  discouraging  celibr.cy, 
232.  Miraculous  stories  related 
of  him,  268.  His  superstition, 
376.  Advice  of  Maecenas  to  him, 
399.  His  consideration  for  the 
religious  customs  of  the  Jews, 
406 

Aulus  Gellius,  his  account  of  the 
rhetoricians,  i.  313.  Compared 
with  Helvetius,  313 

Aurelius,  Marcus,  on  a  future  state, 
i.  184.  On  posthumous  fame,  1 86. 
Denied  that  all  vices  are  the  same, 
192,  note.  On  the  .sacred  spirit 
dwelling  in  man,  198.  His  siib- 
missive  gratitude,  199.  Hisprac- 
tical  applit'ation  of  the  precepts 
of  the  Stoics,  202.  His  wavering 
views  as  to  suicide,  213.  Ilia 
charity  to  the  human  race,  241. 
Mild  and  more  religious  spirit  of 
his  stoicism,  245.  His  constant 
practice  of  self-examination,  249. 
His  life  and  character,  249-25"). 
Compared  and  contrasted  wilii 
Plu'arch,  253.  His  discourage- 
ment of  the  games  of  the  areni, 
286.  His  humanity,  308.  His 
disbelief  of  exorcism,  381.  His 
law  against  religious  terrorism, 
422.  His  persecution  of  the 
Christians,  439,  440.  His  bene- 
volence, ii.  77.  His  view  of  war, 
258 

Austin,  Mr.,  his  view  of  tlie  founda- 
tion of  the  mor.il  law,  i.  17,  note. 
His  advocacy  of  the  unselfish  view 
of  the  love  we  ought  to  bear  to 
God,  18,  note.  Character  of  liis 
'  Lectures  on  Jurisprudeuce,'  22, 
7wte 

Avarice,  a.'s.sociation  of  ideas  to  th« 
passion  of,  i.  25 

Avitus,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  159 


376 


INDEX. 


BAB 

BAB  I'LAS,  bt.,  miracles  perform- 
ed by  his  bones,  i.  382,  and 
note.     His  death,  ii.  9 

Bacchu?,  suppression  of  the  rites  of, 
at  Rome,  i.  401 

Hu'-'on,  Lord,  great  movement  of 
tnodern  thought  caused  by,  i.  125. 
His  objection  to  the  Stoics'  view 
of  death,  2(i2 

Bacon,  Koger,  his  life  and  works, 
ii.  210 

Bain,  Mr.,  on  pleasure,  i.  12,  jwfe. 
His  definition  of  conscience,  29, 
noie 

Balbus,  Cornelius,  his  elevation  to 
the  consulate,  i.  232 

Baltus  on  the  exorcists,  i.  381,  Jiote 

Baptism,  Augustinian  doctrine  of,  i. 
96 

Barbarians,  causes  of  the  conversion 
of  the,  i.  410 

Basil,  St.,  his  hospital,  ii.  80.  His 
labours  for  monachisni,  106 

Bassus,  Ventidius,  his  elevation  to 
the  consulate,  i.  232 

Batliilda,  Queen,  her  charity,  ii.  24o 

Bear-gardens  in  England,  ii.  lib. note 

Beauty,  analogies  between  virtue 
and,  i.  77.  Their  difference,  79. 
Diversities  existing  in  ourjuHg- 
ments  of  virtue  and  beauty,  79. 
Cau.sfts  of  these  diversities,  79. 
Virtues  to  which  we  can,  and  to 
which  we  cannot,  apply  the  term 
beautiful,  82,  83.  Pleasure  de- 
rived from  beauty  compared  with 
tliat  from  the  grotesque,  or  eccen- 
tric, 85.  The  prevailing  cast  of 
female  beauty  in  the  north,  con- 
trasted with  the  southern  type, 
U4,  145,  152.  Admiration  of 
the  Greeks  f(jr  benity,  ii.  292 

B'?e9.  regarded  by  the  ancients  as 
emblems  or  models  of  chastity,  i. 
108,  note 

BeggJirft,  c-'U)ses  of  vast  numbers  of, 
ii.  94.  Old  English  laws  for  the 
Buppresbion    of    mendicancy.    96. 


BLC 

Emictments  against  them  in  van 
ous  parts  of  Europe,  98    * 
Benedict,  St.,  his  system,  183 
Benefices,  military  use  of,  ii.  270 
Benevolence;     Hutcheson's     theory 
that  all  virtue   is   resolved    into 
benevolence,  i.  4.     Discussions  in 
f]ngland,  in    the    sixteenth    and 
seventeenth   centuries,  as    to  the 
existence  of,  20.    Various  views  oi 
the  source  from  which  it  springs, 
22.      Association    of    idesis    pro- 
ducing the  feeling  of,  26.     Hart- 
ley  on    benevolence    quoted,    27, 
note.     Impossibility    of    benevo- 
lence becoming  a  pleasure  if  prac- 
tised  only  with  a  ■\new   to  that 
end,  37.     Application  to  benevo- 
lence of  the  theory,  that  the  moral 
unity  of  different  ages  is  a  unity 
not  of  standard  but  of  tendency, 
100.     Influenced  l)y  our  imagina- 
tions, 132,   133.     Imperfectly  re- 
cognised by  the  Stoics,  188,  192 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  on  tlie  motives  of 
hum.Hn   actions,    i.    8,    note.      On 
the  pleasures  and  pains  of  piety 
quoted,  9,  note.      On  charity,  10, 
note.     On  vice,  13,  note.     On  the 
sanctions    of    morality,    19,    and 
note,  21.     Throws  benevolence  as 
much  as  possible  into  the  back- 
ground, 21.     iMakes  no  use  of  the 
doctrine  of  association,  25,  note. 
His  definition   of  conscience,   29, 
note.      On    interest  and  disinter- 
estedness, 32,  note.    On  the  value 
and  purity  of  a  pleasure,  90,  note 
Besarion,  St.,  iiis  penances,  ii.  108 
Biography,   relative  importance  of, 
among  Chri.stians  and  Pagans,  i, 
174 
Blandina,  martyrdom  of,  i.  412 
Blesilla,  story  of  her  slow  suicide^ 

ii.  48 
Blondel,    his    denunciation    of    th< 
forgeries  of  the  Sibylline  books, 
i.  377 


INDEX. 


377 


BOA 

Boadicea,  her  suicide,  ii.  53,  note 

Bolinebroke's  'Eeflections  on  Exile,' 
i.  201,  7wte 

Bona  Dea,  story  and  -worship  of,  i. 
9t,  note.  Popularity  of  her 
worship  among  tlie  Romans,  106, 
386 

Boniface,  St.,  his  missionary  labours, 
ii.  247 

Bonnet,  his  philosophy,  i.  71 

Bossuet,  on  the  nature  of  the  love 
■we  shculd  bear  to  God,  i.  18, 
note 

Brephotrophia,  in  the  early  church, 
ii.  32 

Brotherhood,  effect  of  Christianity 
in  promoting,  ii.  61 

Brown,  on  the  moti  ve  for  the  practice 
of  virtue,  i.  8,  note.  On  theologi- 
cal Utilitarianism,  16,  note 

Brunehaut,  Queen,  her  crimes,  ap- 
proved of  by  the  Pope,  ii.  236, 
237.     Her  end,  237 

Brutus,  his  extortionate  usury,  i. 
193,  194 

Buckle,  Thomas,  his  remarks  on 
morals,  i.  74,  note.  On  the  differ- 
ence between  menta,!  and  physical 
pleasures,  90,  note.  His  views  of 
the  comparative  influence  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  agencies  in 
civilisation,  103,  note 

Bull- baiting  in  England,  ii.  175, 
note 

Bulgarians,  their  conversion  to  Chris- 
tianify,  ii.  180 

Butler,  Bishop,  maintains  the  realitj' 
of  the  existence  of  benevolence  in 
our  nature,  i.  20,  21,  note.  On 
the  pleasure  derived  from  virtue, 
32,  7iote,  His  analysis  of  moral 
judgments,  76.  His  definition  of 
conscience,  83 
Byzantine  Empire,  general  sketch  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the,  ii.  13, 
14.  Moral  condition  of  tlie  em- 
pire during  the  Christian  period, 
147 


CAT 

O^DMON,  story  of  the  origin  of 
his  'Creation  of  the  World,'  ii. 
201 

Caesar,  Julius,  denies  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  i.  182.  His 
condemnation  of  suicide,  213. 
His  colonial  policy,  233.  His 
multiplication  of  gladiatorial 
shows,  273 

Caligula,  his  intoxication  with  his 
imperial  dignity,  i.  259.  His 
superstitious  fears,  367 

Calvinists :  tendency  of  the  Supra- 
lapsarian  to  deny  the  existence  of 
a  moral  sense,  i.  17,  note 

Camma,  conju<;al  fidelity  of,  ii.  341 

Capital  punishment,  aversion  to,  ii. 
39 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  on  self-sacrifice,  i. 
57,  note.  The  influence  of  con- 
science on  the  happiness  of  men, 
62 

Carneades,  hi»  expulsion  from  Rome 
proposed  by  Cato,  i.  399 

Carpocrates,  licentiousness  of  the 
followers  of,  i.  417 

Carthage,  effect  of  the  destruction  of, 
on  the  decadence  of  Rome,  i.  169. 
The  Decian  persecution  at,  452 

Carthaginians,  the,  amongst  the 
most  prominent  of  Latin  writers, 
i.  235 

Cassius,  the  tyrannicide,  his. suicide, 
i.  215 

Castellio,  his  exposure  of  the  for- 
geries of  the  {Sibylline  books,  i. 
377 

Caticombs,  the,  i.  453,  455 

Catholicism,  Roman,  the  system  of 
education  adopted  by,  contrasted 
with  that  of  the  English  public 
schools,  i.  114.  Conflict  of  tho 
priests  with  political  economists 
on  the  subject  of  early  marriages, 
114,  115.  The  te;iching  of,  on 
many  points  tho  extreme  anti- 
thesis of  that  of  the  pagan  philo- 
sophers, 208.     Its  view  of  death. 


578 


INDEX. 


CAT 

208,  210.  Little  done  by  it  for 
humanity  to  animals,  ii.  173,  177, 
188.  Influence  on  despotism,  186. 
Its  total  destruction  of  religious 
liberty,  194-199.  Causes  of  the 
indifference  totnath  manifested  in 
its  literature,  241.  Protestantism 
contrasted  with  it,  368 

Cato,  his  refusal  to  consult  the  ora- 
cles, i.  165,  note.  His  stoicism, 
185.  His  inhumanity  to  his 
slaves,  193.  His  study  of  tlie 
'Phaedon'  the  night  he  committed 
suicide,  212,  His  opposition  to 
Greek  philosophy,  231.  His  view 
of  pre-nuptial  chastity,  ii.  314 

Cattle  plague,  theological  uotiims 
respecting  the,  i.  356 

Catullus,  on  the  death  of  a  sparrow, 
ii.  165,  note 

Cautinus,  Bishop,  his  drunken'  ess, 
ii.  236 

Celibiicy  among  the  ancients,  i.  106. 
The  Catholic  monastic  system, 
107.  How  discouraged  by  Au- 
gustus, 232.  Celibacy  the  primal 
virtue  of  the  Christians  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  ii.  122. 
Effect  of  this  upon  moral  teach- 
ing, 122,  123.  History  of  the 
celibacy  of  I  lie  clergy,  328,  336 

Celsus  cmUs  the  Christians  SiKyl- 
lists,  i.  376.  And  jugglers, 
384 

Celts,  Spanish,  their  worship  of 
death,  i.  2(i6,  207.  Causes  of 
their  passion  fur  suicide,  207, 
note.  Their  lamentations  on  the 
birth  of  men,  207,  note 

Censors,  Ilom.in,  minute  supervision 
of  the,  i.  168 

Character,  influence  of,  on  opinion, 
i.  172.  Governed  in  a  great  mea- 
Buro  by  national  circumstances, 
172 

Chariot  races,  passion  for,  at  Con- 
Btantiu'iplo,  ii,  37 


CHI 

Charity,  a  form  of  self-love,  accord- 
ing to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  9,  and 
7iote.  Impossibility  of  charity 
becoming  a  pleasure  if  practised 
only  with  a  view  to  that  end,  36 
Ciiarity  of  the  Stoics,  191.  ('ice- 
ro's  empliaiic  assertion  of  the 
duty,  210.  Exertions  of  tlie 
Christians  in  the  cause  of  charity, 
ii.  75,79.  Inadequate  place  given 
to  this  movement  in  history,  84, 
85.  Christian  charity,  in  what  it 
consists,  73.  Lawsof  the  Eomans, 
73.  Pagan  examples  of  charity, 
78.  Noble  enthusiasm  of  the 
Christians  in  the  cause  of  charity, 
78,  79.  Charity  enjoined  as  a 
matterof  justice,  81.  Theological 
notions  of  charity,  85,  90,  91. 
Evils  of  Catholic  charity,  93-94. 
Legends  respecting  the  virtue, 
245,  and  note 

Charlemagne,  his  law  respecting 
Sunday,  ii.  245.  Fascination  ex- 
ercised by  him  over  the  popular 
imagination,  271,  272.  His  poly- 
gamy, 3i3 

Charles  V.,  the  Emperor,  his  law 
against  beggars,  ii.  97 

Charles  Martel,  his  defeat  of  the 
Mahommedans,  at  Poictieis,  ii. 
273 

Charondas,  law  of,  on  second  mar- 
riages, ii.  325,  vote 

Chastity,  in  Utilitarian  systems,  i. 
12,  49.  Sketch  of  the  history  of, 
103-107,  The  Catholic  monastic 
system  107.  MMdern  judgments 
of,  ii.  282,  283.  Cato's  views, 
314.  Mystical  views,  315.  Ser- 
vices of  the  ascetics  in  enforcing 
the  duty  of  chai-tity,  318-320 

Childrcr,  charge  of  murdering  in- 
fants, among  the  early  Christians, 
i.  417.  Abortion,  ii.  20-24. 
Infanticide,  24,  26.  Exposed 
children,  32.     Institutions  of  th« 


INDEX. 


379 


CHI 

Romans  for  the  benefit  of  children, 

77 

Cliilon,  his  closing  hours,  i.  207 

Cholera,  theological  notions  respect- 
ing the,  i.  3.56 

CJhrisfcian  and  pag-an  virtues  com- 
pared, i.  190 

Cliristianity ;  distinctions  bet-ween 
tile  pagan  and  Christian  concep- 
tions of  death,  i.  208.  The  im- 
portance of  Christianity  not 
recognised  by  pngan  writers,  336. 
Causes  of  this.  338.  Examination 
of  the  the'ory  which  ascribes  part 
of  the  teaching  of  the  later  pagan 
moralists  to  Christian  influence, 
340.  Theory  -which  attributes 
the  conversion  of  Rome  to  evi- 
dences of  miracles,  346.  Opinion 
Df  the  pagans  about  the  credulity 
of  the  Christians,  347.  Incapacity 
of  the  Christians  of  the  third  cen- 
tury for  ju'lging  historic  miracles, 

375.  And  for  judging  prophecies, 

376.  Contemporary  miracles  rep- 
resented as  existing  among  them, 

377.  Cliristian  miracles  liad  pro- 
bably little  -weight  with  the 
pagans,  385.  Progress  of  Chris- 
tianity to  -what  due,  386,  387. 
Singular  adaptation  of  it  to  the 
wants  of  the  time,  387.  Heroism 
it  iuspired.  390.  Explanation  of 
the  conversion  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, 393.  Account  of  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  Christians,  395. 
Reasons  why  the  Christians  were 
more  persecuted  than  the  Jews, 
403,  406,  407.  The  first  cause  of 
the  persecution  of  the  Christians, 
406.  Charges  of  immorality 
bro«glit  against  them,  414.  Due 
in  a  great  measure  to  JeM-s  and 
heretics,  416,  417.  The  distur- 
bance of  domestic  life  caused  by 
female  conversions,  418.  Anti- 
pathy of  the  Romans  to  every 
system  which  employed  religious 


CHB 

terrorism,  421.  Christian  intole 
ranee  of  pagan  worship,  423 
And  of  diversity  of  belief,  424- 
427.  History  of  the  persecutions, 
429.  Nero's,  429.  Domitian's. 
431.  Condition  of  the  Christians 
under  the  Antonines,  434.  Be- 
come profoundl}'  obnoxious  to  tiie 
people,  436.  Marcus  Aurelius, 
439,  440.  Introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity into  France,  442,  and  note. 
Attitude  of  the  rulers  towards  it 
from  M.  Aurelius  to  Decius,  451, 
et  seq.  Condition  of  the  Church 
on  the  eve  of  the  Decian  persecu- 
tion, 448.  Gallas,  4.')4.  Valerian, 
454.  Gallienus,  455.  Erection 
of  churches  in  the  Empire,  457- 
Perseeutions  of  Diocletian  and 
Galerius,  458.  End  of  the  perse 
cutions,  463.  Massacre  of  Chris- 
tians in  Phrygia,  464.  Moral 
efficacy  of  the  Christian  sense  o' 
sin,  ii.  3.  Dark  views  of  human 
nature  not  common  in  the  early 
Church,  5.  The  penitential  sys- 
tem, 6.  Empire  Christianity  at- 
tained in  eliciting  disinterested 
enthusiasm,  8.  Great  purity  (f 
the  early  Christians,  10,  11.  The 
promise  of  the  Cliurch  for  many 
centuries  falsified,  12.  The  first 
consequence  of  Christianity  a  new 
sense  of  the  sanctity  of  human 
life,  17.  Influence  in  the  protec- 
tion of  infant  life,  20-32.  In 
the  suppression  of  gladiatorial 
shows,  34.  Its  effect  upon  per- 
sicutions,  40,  et  seq.  The  penal 
code  not  lightened  by  it,  42. 
Condemnation  of  suicide.  43. 
Second  consequence  of  Christianity 
Teaches  universal  brotherhood, 
61.  Slavery,  61-66.  Ransom  of 
captives,  72.  Charity,  73.  Exer- 
tions of  flio  Christians  in  the 
cause  of  charity.  75,  79.  Their 
ex'-rtions    when  the  Empire  waa 


580 


IITOEX. 


CHR 

subverted,  81,  82,  88.  Theologi- 
cal uotions  concerning  insanity, 
85-90.  Almsgiving,  90-92. 
Iknelicial  effect  of  Christianity 
ill  supplying  pure  images  to  the 
imagination,  99.  Summary  of 
the  philanthropic  achievements 
of  Christianity,  100.  Ways  in 
■which  tlie  ascetic  mode  of  life 
affected  both  the  ideal  type  and 
realised  condition  of  nior.ils,  122, 
ct  scq.  History  of  the  relations 
of  Ciiristianity  to  the  civic  virtues, 
140.  Improvements  effected  by 
Christianity  in  the  morals  of  the 
people,  153.  Attitude  of  Chris- 
tianity to  the  barbarians,  178. 
How  it  achieved  their  conver- 
sion, 179  181.  Tendency  of  the 
barbarians  to  adulterate  it,  181. 
Legends  of  the  conflict  between 
the  old  gods  and  the  new  faith, 
181.  Fierce  hatred  of  rival 
sects,  and  total  destruction  of 
religious  liberty,  194,  200.  Poly- 
llieistic  and  idolatrous  form  of 
Ciiristianity  in  mediaeval  times, 
229.  The  doctrine  of  purgatory, 
232.  Benefits  conferred  by  the 
monasteries,  243-245.  The  ob- 
servance of  Sunday,  245.  Influ- 
<'nce  of  Christianity  upon  war, 
254,  259.  Upon  the  consecration 
of  secular  rank,  200,  etseq.  Upon 
the  condition  of  ■women,  316,  ct 
scq.  Strong  assertion  of  tlie 
equality  of  obligation  in  raarri:igc, 
315,  34G.  Eelation  of  Christianity 
to  the  female  virtues,  358,  ct 
seq, 

Cliry.sippus  on  the  immortality  of 
the  Boul,  i.  183 

Clirysostom,  St.,  his  labours  for 
nionachism,  ii.  107.  His  treatment 
of  ills  mother,  132 

iJicei'o  on  the  evidence  of  a  Divine 
element  within  us,  i.  56,  note. 
HiH  definition   of  conscience,   83. 


CLA 

His  conception  of  the  Deity,  164 
His  opinion  of  the  popular  beliefsi 
165.  Instance  of  his  love  of  truth. 
176,  77ote.  His  desire  for  post 
humous  reputation,  185,  note. 
His  declaration  as  to  virtue  con- 
cealing itself  Irom  the  world,  185. 
His  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  204.  His  view  of  death, 
205,  206.  His  complacency  on  the 
approach  of  death,  207.  His  con- 
ception of  suicide,  213.  His 
maintenance  of  the  doctrine  of 
universal  brotherhood,  240.  How 
he  regarded  the  games  of  the 
arena,  285.  His  friendsiiip  with 
his  freedman  Tiro,  323.  His  re- 
marks on  charity,  ii.  79.  His 
rules  respecting  almsgiving,  92 

Circumcelliones,  atrocitu  s  of  the,  ii. 
41.  Their  cul^tom  of  provoking 
martyrdom,  49 

Civic  virtues,  predominance  accorded 
to,  in  ancient  ethics,  i.  200 

Civilisat  on,  refining  influence  of,  on 
taste,  i.  79.  Pleasures  of  a  civi- 
lised and  semi-civilised  society 
compared,  85.  Views  of  Mill  and 
Buckle  on  the  comparative  influ- 
ence of  intellectual  and  moral 
agencies  in,  102,  note.  Effect  of 
education  in  diminishing  cruelty, 
and  producing  charity,  134.  Jloral 
enthusiasm  appropriate  to  differ- 
ent stiiges  of  civilisation,  136. 
Increase  of  veracity  witli  civilisa- 
tion, 137.  Each  stage  of  civilisa- 
tion specially  appropriate  to  some 
virtue,  147 

Clarke,  on  moral  judgments,  i.  77 

Classical  literature,  preservation  of, 
ii.  199.  Manner  in  which  it  was 
regarded  by  the  Church,  200-204 

Claudius,  his  delight  in  gladiatorial 
shows,  i.  280.  His  dtcree  as  to 
slaves,  307 

Claver,  Father,  his  remark  on  somo 
persons    who     had     delivered    a 


INDEX. 


381 


CLE 

criminal  into  the  hands  of  justice, 
i.  41,  note 

Cleanthes,  his  suicide,  i.  212 

Clemency,  Seneca's  distinction  c^e- 
tween  it  and  pity,  i.  189 

Clement  of  Alexandria,  on  the  two 
sources  of  ali  the  wisdom  of  an- 
tiquity, i.  344.  On  the  Sibylline 
looks,  376.     On  wigs,  ii.  149 

Clemens,  Flavius,  put  to  death,  i. 
433 

Cleombrotus,  his  suicide,  i.  212,  ^wte 

Clergy,  corruption  of  the,  from  the 
fourth  century,  ii.  150,  237.  Sub- 
mission of  the  Eastern,  but  inde- 
pendence of  the  "Western,  clergy 
to  the  civil  power,  2G4-268.  His- 
tory of  their  celibacy.  328 

Climate,  effects  of,  in  stimulating  or 
allaying  the  passions,  i.  144 

^lotaire,  his  treatment  of  Queen 
Brunehaut  ii.  237 

Clotilda,  her  conversion  of  her  hus- 
band, i.  410  ;  ii.  180 

Clovis,  his  conversion,  i.  410;  ii. 
180.  Gregory  of  Tours'  account 
of  his  jicts,  240.  241 

Cock-fighting  among  the  ancients 
and  moderns,  ii.  164,  and  owte, 
175,  note 

Cock-thi."owing,  ii.  164,  notn,  17,5^ 
note 

Coemgenus,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  Ill, 
note 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  his  remarks  on  the 
practice  of  virtue  as  a  pleasure,  i. 
28,  note.  His  admiration  lor 
Hartley,  28,  note.  On  the  bind- 
ing ground  of  the  belief  of  God 
and  a  hereafter,  i.  55,  note 

Col  man,  St.,  his  animal  companions, 
ii.  170.     His  girdle,  319,  note 

Colonies,  Eoman,  the  cosmopolitan 
spirit  forwarded  by  the  aggran- 
disement of  the,  i.  233 

Colosseum,  the,  i.  275.  Games  at 
the  dedication  of  the,  280 


COX 

Columbanus,  St.,  his  missionary  la- 
bours, ii.  246 

Comedy,  Eoman,  short  period  during 
which  it  flourished,  i.  277 

Comet,  a  temple  erected  by  the  Eo- 
mans  in  honour  of  a,  i.  367 

Comraodus,  his  treatment  of  tho 
Christians,  i.  443 

Compassion,  theory  that  it  is  the 
cause  of  our  acts  of  barbarity,  i. 
71,  72 

Concubines,  Eoman,  ii.  350 

Concupiscence,  doctrine  of  the  Fa- 
thers respecting,  ii.  281 

Condillac,  cause  of  the  attractive- 
ness of  utilitarianism  to,  i.  ?1. 
Connection  with  Locke,  i.  122, 
note 

Confessors,  power  of  the,  in  the 
early  Chundi,  i.  390,  and  note 

Congo,  Helvetius,  on  a  custom  of  the 
people  of,  i.  102,  jiote 

Conquerors,  causes  of  the  admira- 
tion of,  i.  94,  95 

Conscience,  association  of  ideas 
generating,  i.  28.  Eeeognisod  by 
the  disciples  of  Hartley.  29.  Deli- 
nitions  of  Hobbes,  Locke,  Ecn- 
tham,  and  Bain,  29,  note.  Tlio 
rewards  and  punishmonts  of  con- 
science, 60-62.  Unique  position 
of,  in  our  nature,  83.  As  defined 
by  Cicero,  tho  Stoics,  St.  Paul, 
and  Butler,  83 

Consequences,  remote,  weakness  of 
the  utilitarian  doctrine  of,  i.  42- 
44 

'Consolations,'  literature  of,  leading 
topics  of,  i.  204 

Constant ine,  tho  Emperor,  his  foun- 
dation of  the  empire  of  tho  l']a>t, 
ii.  12.  His  liuiiiaiio  policy  to- 
wards children,  29,  30.  His  sanc- 
tion of  the  gladiatorial  shows,  3.». 
His  laws  ni'tigating  tho  severity 
of  punishments,  42.  His  treat- 
ment   of   slaves,    64.     His    la« 


382 


INDEX. 


CON 

respecting  Sunday,  244.  Magni- 
ficence of  his  court  at  Constanti- 
nople, 265 

Conventual  system,  eFect  of  the  sup- 
pression of  the,  on  women,  ii.  369 

Cordeilla,  or  Cordelia,  her  suicide, 
ii.  53,  note 

Corinth,  effect  of  the  conquest  of,  on 
the  decadence  of  Rome,  i.  169 

Cornelia,  a  vestal  virgin,  incident  of 
her  execution,  ii.  318,  note 

Cornelius,  the  bishop,  martyrdom  of, 
i.  454 

Cornutus,  his  disbelief  in  a  future 
state,  i.  183 

Corporations,  moral  qualities  of,  i. 
162 

Councils  of  the  Church,  character  of 
the,  ii.  197,  no'.e 

Courtesans,  Greek,  ii.  287.  Causes 
of  their  elevation,  291-294.  How 
regarded  by  the  Eomans,  300 

Cousin,  Victor,  liis  criticism  of  the 
Scotch  moralists,  i.  74,  i^ote.  His 
objection  against  Locke,  75,  note 

Crantor,  originates  the  literature  of 
'Consolations,'  i.  204 

Crcmutius  Cordus,  trial  of,  i.  418, 
note 

Crime,  value  attached  by  the  monks 
to  pecuniary  compensations  fur, 
ii.  213.  Catalogue  of  crimes  of 
the  seventh  century,  237-239 

Criminals,  causes  of  our  indulgent 
judgmei'.t  of,  i.  135 

Criticiil  spirit,  the,  destroyed  by 
Neoplatonism,  i.  330 

Cromaziano,  his  history  of  suicide, 
i.  216,  note 

Cruelty,  origin  and  varieties  of,  i. 
132,"  134.  Cruelty  to  animals, 
utilitarian  doctrine  concerning, 
46,  47 

CiTAsius,  his  adherence  to  the  op.nion 
of  Ockham  as  to  the  foundation 
of  the  moral  law,  i.  17,  nc't 

Cnil worth,  his  analysis  of  m..-a] 
judgments,  i.  76 


DIO 

Culagium,  a,  tax  levied  on  the  clergy^ 
ii.  330 

Cumberland,  Bishop,  his  unselfish 
view  of  virtue,  i.  19,  note 

Cynics,  account  of  the  later,  i.  309 

Cyprian,  St.,  his  evasion  of  perse- 
cution ly  flight,  i.  452.  Ills  exile 
and  martyrdom,  455 

Cyzicus  deprived  of  its  freedom,  i. 
259 

D/EMONS,  Apuleius'  disquisition 
on  the  doctrine  of,  i.  323.  1  ha 
doctrine  supersedes  the  Stoical 
naturalism,  i.  331.  The  daemons 
of  tliO  Greeks  and  Romans,  380. 
And  of  the  Christians,  382 

Dale,  Van,  his  denial  ot  the  super- 
natural character  of  the  oracles,  i. 
374 

Dead,  Roman  worship  of  the,  i.  168 

Death,  calmness  with  which  some 
men  of  dull  and  animal  natures 
can  meet,  i.  89.  Frame  of  mind 
in  wiiich  a  man  should  approach 
death,  according  to  Epictetus,  195. 
Preparation  for  deatii  one  of  the 
cliief  ends  of  the  pliilosophy  of 
the  ancients,  202.  Bacon's  olijec- 
tion  to  the  Stoics'  view  of,  202. 
The  Irish  legend  of  the  islands 
of  life  and  death.  203.  The 
literature  of  'Consolations,'  204. 
Death  not  regarded  by  tho  philo- 
sophers as  penal,  205.  Popular 
terrors  of  death,  205,  206.  In- 
stances of  tranquil  pagan  deaths, 
207.  Distinctions  between  the 
l>agan  and  Christian  conceptions 
of  death,  208 

Dccius,  persecution  of  the  Christians 
under,  i.  449,  450 

Defoe.  Daniel,  his  tract  against  bog- 
gars,  ii.  98,  and  ncte 

Deljjhi,  onicle  of,  its  description  of 
tho  best  religion,  i.  167 

Deiigratias,  his  ransom  of  prisoners, 
ii    72 


INDEX. 


38a 


DES 

DeBpotism,  Helvitius'  remarks  on 
the  moral  effects  of,  i.  129,  note 

Diagoras,  his  denial  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  gods,  i.  162 

Diodorus,  the  philosopher,  his 
suicide,  i.  215 

Dion  Chrysostom,  his  denunciation 
of  images  of  the  Deity,  i.  166, 
167,  note.  His  life  and  works, 
312 

Dionysius  of  Halicarnassus,  on  the 
creed  of  the  Eomans,  i.  167 

Disinterestedness,  Beutham's  re- 
marks on,  quoted,  i.  32,  oiotc 

Disposition,  what  constitutes,  ac- 
cording to  the  theory  of  associa- 
tion, i.  30 

Divination,  a  favourite  sul)ject  of 
Eoman  ridicule,  i.  166.  Eelief  of 
the  ancients  in,  363 

Divorce,  unbounded  liberty  of, 
among  the  Eomans,  ii.  306-308. 
Condemned  by  the  Church,  350, 
351 

Docetae,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 

Dog-star,  legend  of  the,  ii.  162 

Dolpliin,  legends  of  the,  ii.  162,  and 
note 

Domestic  laws.  Roman,  changes  in, 
i.  297,  298 

Domestic  virtues,  destruction  of  ihe, 
by  the  ascetics,  ii.  125 

Domitian,  his  law  respecting  suicide, 
i.  219.  Anecdote  of  his  cruelty, 
289.  His  law  as  to  slaves,  307. 
His  persecution  of  the  Stoics  and 
Christians,  431,  432 

Jomitilla,  banishment  of,  i.  433 

Domnina,  her  suicide  with  iier  daugh- 
ters, ii.  46 

Donatists,  their  intolerance,  ii.  1<)5 

Dowry  of  women,  rise  of  the,  ii.  277 
and  note 

Dreams,  opinions  of  the  Romans  con- 
cerning, i.  365,  367,  note 

Dumont,  M.,  on  vengeance  quoted,  i. 
41,  nofe 

Duty,  theorv  of  morals  must  explain 


BMQ 

what  is,  and  the  notion  of  there 
being  such  a  thing  as,  i.  5.  Paley 
on  the  difference  between  it  and 
pnidcnce,  15,  16,  note.  Distinc- 
tion between  natural  duties  and 
those  resting  on  positive  law, 
93.  Duty  a  distinct  motive,  180 
Dwarfs,  C'jmbats  of,  in  the  arena,  i. 
281 


I  EARTHQUAKES,  how  regarded 
J  by  the  ancients,  i.  369.  Cause 
of  persecutions  of  tlie  Christians, 
408 

Easter  controversv,  bitterness  of  the, 
ii.  198 

Eclectic  school  of  philosophy,  riso  of 
the,  i.  242.  Its  influence  on  the 
Stoics,  245 

Eclipses,  opinions  of  the  ancients 
concerning,  i.  366 

Education,  importance  ascribed  to, 
by  the  theory  of  the  association 
of  ideas,  i.  30.  Contrast  between 
that  adopted  by  the  Catholic 
priesthood  and  that  of  the  Eng- 
lish public  schools,  114.  Its  in- 
fluence on  tiie  benevolent  feelings, 
133,  134.  Two  distinct  theories 
of,  187 

Egypt,  the  cradle  of  monachism,  ii. 
105.  The  ^lohanimedau  conquest 
of,  143.  Triumphs  of  the  Catholics 
in,  196 

Eg^-ptiaus,  tlieir  reverence  for  the 
vulture,  i.  108,  note.  Their  kind- 
ness to  animals,  289.  Contrast  of 
the  spirit  of  tlu-ir  religion  with 
that  of  the  Greeks,  324.  Difference 
between  the  Stoical  and  Egypiiaa 
pantheism,  325 

Elephant,s,  legends  of,  ii.  101 

Emperors,  Roman,  aitothcosis  of, 
i.  170,  257 

Endura,  the  Albigensian  practice  of, 
ii.49 

England,  national  virtues  and  v\oe* 


S84 


INDEX 


EFH 

of,  i.  153.  Aucient  amusements  of, 
ii.  174,  175,  note 
Ephrem,  St.,  his  charity,  ii.  81 
Epictetus,  his  disbelief  ia  a  future 
state,  i.  183.  Ilis  life  and 
•works,  184,  and  note.  On  the 
frame  of  mind  in  which  a  man 
sliouid  approach  death,  195.  His 
views  01  the  natural  virtue 
of  man,  198,  On  suicide,  214, 
note,  220.  On  univereal  brother- 
hood, 254.  Ilis  stoicism  tempered 
by  a  milder  and  more  religious 
spirit,  245,  246,  His  remarks  on 
national  religious  beliefs,  405 

Epicureans,  their  faith  preserved 
unchanged  at  Athens,  i.  128,  and 
note.  Their  scepticism,  162.  Ko- 
man  Epicureans,  162,  163.  Epi- 
cureanism the  expression  of  a 
type  of  character  different  from 
Stoicism,  171,  172.  But  never 
became  a  school  of  virtue  in 
liome.  175.  Destruc  ive  nature 
of  its  functions,  176.  Esteemed 
pleasure  as  the  ultimate  end  of 
our  aetiou.s,  186.  l-'-ncouragcd 
physical  science,  193.  Their 
doctrine  as  to  s-uicide,  214,  215, 
note 

Epicurus,  the  four  canons  of,  i.  14. 
Va-^t  place  occupied  liy  his  system 
in  the  moral  history  of  man,  171. 
His  character,  175,  176,  oiote. 
Lucretius'  praise  of  him,  197, 
His  view  of  death,  2e5.  Dis- 
covery of  one  of  his  treatises  at 
Heriulancum,  205,  note 

Epidemics,  theological  notions  re- 
specting, i.  356 

Epiphanius,  St.,  bis  miraculous 
stones,  i.  378.  His  charges 
against  tlie  Gnostics,  417.  Legend 
of  him  and  St.  Hilarius,  ii.  159 

Epp'Miinii,  story  of  her  conjugal 
lidelity,  ii.  342 

Error,  the  notion  if  the  guilt  of, 
ii.  190-193 


KXF 

Essenes,    virginity    their    ideal    of 

sanctity,!.  109,  ii.  102 
Euhemerus,  his  explanation   of  the 

legends,  i.  163 
Euphrates  the  Stoic,  his  answer  to 
Pliny  the  Younger,  i.  202.      Has 
piermission  from  Hadrian  to  com- 
mit suicide,  218,  note 
Euphraxia,  St.,  ii.  110 
Euripides,   beauty  of    the    gentler 
virtues  inculcated  in  the  plays  of, 
i.  228 
Eusebius,    on    the  allegorical  and 
mythical  interpretitions  of  pagan- 
ism, i.    163,    note.     His   account 
of  the   Christian  persecutions,  i. 
463 
Eusebius,     St.,    his     penances,     iL 

108 
Eustathius,    condemnation    of,    by 

the  council  of  Gangra,  ii.  131 
Evagrius,    his   inhumanity    to    his 

parents,  ii.  125 
Evil,  vie-ws  of  Hobbes  and  the  Utili- 
tarians of  the  essence  and  origin 
of,  i.  8-10 
Excellence,  supreme,  how  far  it  is 

conducive  to  happiness,  i.  66 
Excommunication,  penalties  of,  ii.  7 
Executioners,   jilways   regarded    as 

unholy,  i.  41 
Exorcism,  among  the  early  Christ- 
ians, i.  378,  380.  Origin  of  the 
notions  of  possession  and  exor- 
cism, 380.  Jews  the  principal 
exorcists,  380.  ]?eliefof  the  early 
Cliristians  in,  382  Contempt  of 
the  pagans  for  it,  384.  Ulpian's 
law  against  exorcists,  384.  Prob- 
able explanation  of  po.ssession 
and  exorcism,  SSri.  Speedy  decline 
of  exorcism,  385.  The  practice 
probably  had  no  appreciable  in- 
iluence  in  jn-ovokiug  pcr.secution 
of  the  Chri-^iians,  420 
Experience,  general  statement  of 
the  doctrine  which  bases  moralf 
upon,  i.  5 


INDKX, 


385 


FAB 

FABIANUS,  martyrdom  of,  i.  448 
Fabiola,  foundt-d  the  first  public 

hospital,  ii.  80 
Fabius,  his  self-sacrifice,  i.  185 
Fabius  Pictor,  his  works  written  in 

Greek,  i.  230 
Faculty,  moral,  the  term,  i.  75 
Fairies,  belief  in,  i.  348,  349 
Fatalism,  ^schylus  the  poet  of,  i. 

196 
Felicitas,  St.,  her  martyrdom,  i.  444. 

In  prison,  ii.  9 
Fenelon,  on  the  unselfish  love   we 

should  bear  to  God,  i.  18,  note 
Fetichii-m,    latent,    the  root   of  a 

great  part  of  our  opinions,  i.  350 
Fidenae,    accident    at    the    amphi- 
theatre at,  i.  275 
Fights,  sham,  in  Italy  in  the  middle 

ages,  ii.  37,  38 
Fire,  regarded  by  the  ancients  as  an 

emblem  of  virginity,  i.  108,  note 
Fish,  symbol  of  the  early  Christians, 

i.  376 
Flamens  of  Jupiter,  ii.  298 
Flora,  games  of,  i.  276 
Forethought,    brought    into  a  new 

position  by  induslriiilliabit.s.i.  140 
Foundlings,    hospitjvls   for,   ii.    23, 

note,  32.      In   ancient  times,   28, 

29.     Adversaries  of,  98,  and  iwte 
France,    condition    of,    under    the 

Merovingian  kings,  ii.  230,  ncAe 
Francis  of  .Assisi,  St.,  story  of  his 

death  from  asceticism,  ii.  49.  His 

kindness  to  Hnim;iLs,  172 
Franks,  cause  of  their  conversion,  i. 

410 
Fredegonde,  Queen,  her  crimes,  ii. 

236,  237 
Freedmcn,  influence  of,  at  Rome,  i. 

233.  Condition  of  the  freedmen  of 

the  Romans,  236 
\  renchnien,  the  chief  national  vir- 
tues Hiid  causes  of  their  inHuencc 

ID    Europe,    i.    152.       Compared 

with    Auglo-Saxon   nations.   153 
Pneiidi-hip,  Utilitarian  view  of,  i.  10 


GLA 

G1 ALKKIUS,  his  persecution  of  the 
r  Christians,  i.  458,  461.  His 
illness,  462.  Relents  towards  the 
Christians,  462 

Galilseans,  their  'ndifference  to 
death,  i.  392,  note 

Gall,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  182.  His 
missionary  labours,  247 

Gallienus,  proclaims  toleration  to 
the  Christians,  i.  455,  457 

Gallus,  the  Emperor,  persecutions  of 
the  Christians  under,  i.  454 

Gambling-table,  moral  influence  of 
the,  i.  148 

Gaul,  introduction  of  Christianity 
into,  i.  442.  Foundation  of  the 
monastic  sj'stcm  in,  ii.  106.  Long 
continuance  of  polygamy  among 
the  kings  of,  343 

Gay,  his  view  of  the  origin  of  human 
actions,  quoted,  i.  8,  note.  His 
suggestion  of  the  theory  of  associ- 
ation, 23,  24 

Genseric,  effect  of  his  conquest  of 
Africa  upon  Ital}',  ii.  82.  His  cap- 
ture of  Rome,  83 

George  of  Cappadocia,  his  barbarity, 
li.  195 

Germanicus,  the  Emperor,  fury  of 
the  populace  with  the  gods,  in 
consequence  of  the  death  of,  i. 
169 

Germanus,  St.,  his  charity,  ii.  215 

Germany,  conversion  of,  to  Chri.'*- 
tiaiiity,  ii.  246.  I^larriaijc  customs 
of  the  early  Germans,  278.  Tiieir 
chastity,  340,  341 

Gerviiaius,  St.,  recovery  of  his  re- 
mains, i.  379. 

Girdles  of  chastity,   ii.  319,  ttote 

(iladiat<jrial  shows,  influence  of 
Christianity  on  the  suppression  of, 
i.  34.  Rea.sons  why  the  Romans 
saw  nothing  criminal  in  them, 101. 
History  and  effect  on  the  Romann 
of,  271-283.  How  regarded  by 
moralists  and  historians,  284. 
The  passion  for  them  not  incon- 


58fi 


INDEX. 


QHO 

sistent  witn   humanity  in  other 
spheres,  288. 

Guostics,  accusivtions  against  the,  liy 
the  early  Fathers,  i.  417-  Their 
tenets,  ii.  102 

God,  the  Utilitarian  view  of  the 
goodness  of,  i.  0,  and  note.  Ques- 
tion of  the  disinterestedness  of 
the  love  we  should  bear  to,  18. 
Our  kno-wledge  of  Him  derived 
from  our  own  moral  nature,  bb. 
Karly  traces  of  an  all-pervading 
soul  of  nature  in  Greece,  161, 162, 
170.  Philosophic  definitions  of  tlie 
Deity,  162.  note.  Pantheistic 
conception  of,  by  the  Stoics  and 
Platonists,  163.  Eecognition  of 
Providence  by  the  Koman  moral- 
ists, 196.  Two  aspects  under 
which  the  Stoics  worshipped  the 
Divinity — providence  and  moral 
goodness,  198 

Gods,  the.  of  the  ancients,  i.  16),  ct 
scq.  Euhemerus'  theory  of  the 
explanation  of  the  prevailing 
legends  of  the  gods,  163.  Views 
of  Cicero  of  the  popular  beliefs, 
165.  Opinions  of  the  Stoics,  of 
Ovid,  Hnd  of  Horace,  166.  Na- 
ture of  the  gods  of  the  Komans, 
167.  Decline  of  Roman  reverence 
for  the  gods,  168,  169 

Good,  pleasure  equivalcntto,  accord- 
ing    to    the    Utilitarians,   i.    8, 

7l0tf,  9 

Gracchi,  colonial  policy  of  the,  i.  233 

Grazers,  sect  of,  ii.  109 

Greeks,  ancient,  their  callous  murdtT 
of  children,  i.  45,  46.  Low  state 
of  female  morality  among  them. 
Their  enforcement  of  monogamy, 
104.  Celibacy  of  some  of  their 
priests  and  priestesses,  1 05.  Early 
traces  of  a  religion  of  nature,  161. 
Universal  providence  attributed 
to  Zeus,  101.  Scepticism  of  the 
pliiloeopliers,  161,  102.  Iinpurt- 
ancc  of  biography  in   the    moral 


OUT 

tenchiug  of  the,  i.  74.  DifFofonce 
between  the  teaching  of  the  Koman 
moralists  and  the  Greek  poets,  195. 
On  death,  and  future  punishment, 
205,  206.  Greek  suicides,  212. 
Gentleness  and  humanity  of  the 
Greek  character,  227.  Intiuence 
on  Eoman  character,  227,  228. 
The  Greek  spirit  at  first  as  far 
removed  from  cosmopolitanism 
as  that  of  Rome,  228.  Causes  of 
Greek  cosmopolitanism,  229.  Ex- 
tent of  Greek  influence  at  Rome, 
230.  Gladiatorial  shows  among 
them,  276.  Spirit  of  their  reli- 
gion contrasted  ■with  that  of  the 
Egyptians,  324.  Their  intolerance 
of  foreign  religions,  406.  Con- 
dition and  fall  of  their  empire  of 
the  East,  ii.  12-14.  The  r  prac- 
tice of  infanticide,  2.')-27.  Their 
treatment  of  animals,  164.  Their 
treatment  of  prisoners  taken  in 
war,  257,  258.  Their  maniage 
customs,  277.  Women  in  the 
poetic  age,  278.  Peculiarity  of 
Greek  feelings  on  the  position 
of  women,  280,  281.  Unnatural 
forms  assumed  by  vice  amongst 
them,  294 

Gregory  th^  Great,  his  contempt  for 
Pagan  literature,  ii.  201,  Tioie. 
His  attitude  towards  Phoeas,  264 

Gregory  of  Nyssa,  St.,  his  eidogy  of 
virginity,  ii.  322 

Gregory  of  Tours,  manner  in  which 
he  regarded  events,  ii.  240-242, 
261,  277 

Grotesque,  or  eccentric,  pleusiire  de- 
rived from  the,  compared  with 
that  from  beauty,  i.  85 

Gundebald,  his  muriors  approve.! 
of  by  his  bishop,  ii.  237 

Gunpowder,  importance  of  the  in 
vention  of,  i.  126 

Guy,  Brother,  his  society  ff>r  pro- 
tection and  educaiion  of  children 
ii.  33,  and  7i/>ie 


IXDEX. 


387 


HAD 

HADRIAN,  the  Emperor,  his  view 
of  suicide,  i.  219.  Gives  Eu- 
jibrates  permission  to  destroy 
himself,  218,  note.  His  laws  re- 
specting slaves,  307.  His  leniency 
towards  Ciiristianity,  438.  His 
benevolence,  ii.  77 

lliiir,  false,  opinions  of  the  Fathers 
on,  ii.  149 

Hall,  Eobert,  on  theological  Utilita- 
rianism, i.  15  note 

'Happiness,  the  greatest,  for  the 
greatest  number,'  theory  of  the, 
i.  3.  The  sole  end  of  human 
actions,  according  to  the  Utilita- 
rians, 8.  note.  The  best  man 
seldom  the  happiest,  69.  Mental 
compared  with  physical  happiness, 
87.  Influence  of  health  and 
temperament  on  happiness,  88, 
and  note 

Hartley,  his  doctrine  of  association, 
i.  22.  Coleridge's  admiration  lor 
him,  28,  note.  On  animal  food. 
48,  note.  His  attempt  to  evade 
the  conclusion  to  which  his  view 
leads,  quoted,  67,  note.  His  defi- 
nition of  conscience,  82 

Hegesias,  the  orator  of  death,  i. 
215 

Heliogabalus,  his  blasphemous  or- 
gies, i.  260 

Hell,  monkish  visions  of,  ii.  221  and 
note.  Glimpses  of  the  infernal 
regions  furnished  by  the  'Dia- 
logues' of  St.  Gregory,  221. 
j\Iodcrn  publications  on  this  sub- 
ject, 223,  note 

flelvetius,  on  the  origin  of  human 
actions,  i.  8,  note.  On  customs  of 
the  people  of  Congo  and  Siam, 
102,  note.  Compared  with  Aulus 
Gellius,    313 

Herbert,  of  Cherbury,  Lord,  his 
profession  of  thedoctrine  of  innate 
ideas,  i.  1 23 

lli-rcules.  meaning  of.  according  to 
the  Stoics,  i.  163 


HUM 

Hereford,  jNicnolas  of,  his  opposition 
to  indiscriminate  alms,  ii.  96 

Heresy,  punishment  of  death  for,  i. 
98;  ii.  40 

Hermits.  See  Asceticism ;  Monas- 
ticisni 

Heroism,  the  Utilitarian  theory  un- 
favourable to,  i.  66.  War,  the 
school  of  heroism,  1 73 

Hilarius,  St.,  legend  of  him  and  St. 
Epiphanius,  ii.   159 

Hildebrand,  his  destruction  o* 
priestly  marriage,  ii.  322 

Hippopotamus,  legend  of  tlie,  ii.  161 

Historical  literature,  scantiness  of, 
after  the  fall  of  the  Koman  em- 
pire, ii.  235 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  his  opinions  con- 
cerning t'"e  essence  and  origin  of 
virtue,  i.  7,  8,  note.  His  vit-w  of 
the  origin  of  human  actions, 
quoted,  8,  note.  His  remarks  on 
the  goodness  which  we  apprehend 
in  God,  quoted,  9,  note.  And  on 
reverence,  9,  note.  On  charity,  9, 
10,  note.  On  pity,  10,  «o/e.  Re- 
view of  the  system  of  morals  of 
his  school,  11.  Gives  the  first 
great  impulse  to  moral  phdosopliy 
in  England,  19,  note.  His  denial 
of  the  reality  of  pure  benevolence, 
20,  21.  liis  definition  of  con- 
science, 29,  note.  His  theory  of 
compassion,  72,  7iote 

Holidays,  importance  of,  to  the  ser- 
vile classes,  ii.  244 

Homer,  his  views  of  human  nature 
and  man's  will,  i.  196 

Horace,  his  rid  cule  of  idols,  i.  166. 
His  description  of  the  just  man, 
197 

Hospitalitv  enjoined  by  tlie  Romans, 
ii.  79 

Hospitals,  foundation  of  the  first,  ii. 
80,  81 

Human  life,  its  sanctity  recognised 
by  Christianity,  ii.  18.  Gridu^J 
acq-  irenient  of  this  sense,  18 


388 


INDEX. 


HUM 

Human  nature,  false  estimatp  of,  by 
the  Stoics,  i.  192 

Hume,  David,  his  theory  of  virtue, 
i.  4.  Misreprpsented  by  many 
■writers,  4.  His  rfecognition  of  the 
reality  of  benevolence  in  our 
nature,  20,  and  note.  His  com- 
ment on  French  licentiousness  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  50,  note. 
His  analysis  of  the  moral  judg- 
ments, 76.  Lays  the  foundation 
for  a  union  of  the  schools  of 
Clarke  and  Shaftesbury,  77 

Humility,  new  value  placed  upon  it 
by  monaehism,  ii.  185,  187 

Hutcheson,  Francis,  his  doctrine  of 
a  '  moral  sense,'  i.  4.  Establishes 
the  reality  of  the  existence  of  be- 
nevolence in  our  nature,  20.  His 
aniilysis  of  moral  judgments,  76 

Hypatia,  murder  of,  ii.  196 


IAMBLICHUS,  his  philosophy,  i. 
330 

Ideas,  confused  association  of. 
Question  whether  our,  are  de- 
rived exclusively  from  sensation 
or  whether  they  spring  in  part 
from  the  mind  itself,  122.  The 
latter  theory  represented  by  the 
Platonic  doctrine  of  pre-existcnco, 
122.  Doctrine  of  innate  ideas, 
122 

Idols  and  idolatry,  views  of  the 
Roman  philosophers  of,  i.  166. 
Discussion  between  ApoUonius  of 
Tyana  and  an  Egyptian  priest  re- 
specting, 166,  7io(e.  Idcls  for- 
biddeu  by  Numa,  166,  7iotc.  Plu- 
tarch on  the  vanity  of,  166,  note 

Ignatius,  St.,  his  martyrdom,  i.  438 

Ignis  fatuus,  legend  of  the,  ii.  224, 
tu»(e 

Imagination,  sins  of,  i.  44.  Kelation 
of  the  benevolent  feelings  to  it, 
132,133.     Deficiency  of  imagina 
tion  the  cause   of  the  great  ma- 


nrr 

jority  of  uncharitable  judgment*, 
134-136.  Feebleness  of  the 
imagination  a  source  of  legends 
and  myths,  347.  Beneficial  effects 
of  Christianity  in  supplying  pure 
images  to  the  imagination,  299 

Imperial  system  of  the  Eomans,  its 
effect  on  their  morals,  i.  257. 
Apotheosis  of  the  emperors,  257 

India,  ancient,  admiration  for  the 
schools  of,  i.  229 

Inductive,  ambiguity  of  the  term,  as 
applied  to  morals,  i.  73 

Industrial  truth,  characteristics  of, 
i.  137.  Influence  of  the  promo- 
tion of  industrial  life  upon  morals, 
139-140 

Infanticide,  history  of  the  practice 
of,  ii.  24.  Efforts  of  the  Ciiurch 
to  suppress  it,  29.  Eoman  laws 
relating  to,  31.  Causes  of,  in 
England,  285 

Infants,  Augustinian  doctrine  of  the 
damnation  of  uiibaptised,  i.  96. 
The  Sacrament  given  to,  in  the 
early  Church,  ii.  6 

Insanity,  alleged  incrense  of,  ii.  60. 
Theological  notions  concerning, 
86.     The  first  lunatic  asylams,  88 

lu'^urance  societies  among  the  poor 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  ii.  78 

Intellectual  progress,  its  relations  to 
moral  progress,  i.  149   151 

Interest,  self-,  human  actions  go- 
verned exclusively  by,  according 
to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  7,  8,  note. 
Summary  of  the  relations  of  vir- 
tue and  public  and  private,  117 

Intuition,  rival  claims  of,  and  utility 
to  be  regarded  as  the  supreme 
regulator  of  moral  distinctions,  i. 

1,  2.  Various  names  by  whicli 
the  theory  of  intuition  is  known, 

2,  3.  Views  of  the  niorali.'^ts  o* 
the  school  of,  3.  Summary  of 
their  objections  to  the  Utilitarian 
theory,  i.  69.  The  intuitive  school, 
74,75.   Doctrines  of  Butler,  Adain 


INDEX. 


389 


JNV 

Smith,  and  others,  76-77.  Analo- 
gies of  beauty  and  virtue,  77. 
i)istinction  between  the  higher 
and  lower  parts  of  our  nature,  83. 
Moral  judc^ments,  and  their  alleged 
diversities,  91.  General  moral 
principles  alone  revealed  by  intui- 
tion, 99.  Intuitive  morals  not 
unprogressive,  102,  103.  Diffi- 
culty of  both  the  intuitive  and 
utilitarian  schools  in  finding  a 
fixed  frontier  line  between  the 
lawful  and  the  illicit,  116,  117. 
The  intuitive  and  utilitarian 
schools  each  related  to  the  gene- 
ral condition  of  society,  122. 
Their  relations  to  metaphysical 
schools,  123,  124.  And  to  the 
Baconian  philosophy,  12-5.  Con- 
trasts between  ancient  and  modern 
civilisations,  126.  127.  Practical 
consequences  of  the  opposition  be- 
tween the  two  schools.  127 

rnventions,  the  causes  which  accele- 
rate the  progress  of  society  in 
modern  times,  i.  126 

Ireland,  why  handed  over  by  the 
Pope  to  England,  ii.  217 

Irenffius,  his  belief  that  all  Chris- 
tians had  the  power  of  working 
miracles,  i.  378 

Irish,  characteristics  of  the,  i.  138. 
Their  early  marriages  and  na- 
tional improvidences,  146.  Ali- 
sence  of  moral  scandals  among 
the  priesthood,  146.  Their  legend 
of  the  islands  of  life  and  death, 
203.  Their  missionary  hibours, 
ii.  246.  Their  perpendicular 
burials,  253 

Isidore,  St.,  legend  of,  ii.  20.') 

Isis,  worship  of.  at  Eonie,  i.  387. 
Suppression  of  the  Avorship,  402 

Italians,  characteristics  of  the,  i. 
138,  144 

Italy,  gigantic  development  of  men- 
dicancy in,ii.98.  Introduction  of 
monachism  into,  106 

57 


JUL 

JAMES,  the  Apostle,  Euse  bins'  ac- 
count of  him,  ii.  105 

James,  St.,  of  Venice,  his  kindness 
to  animals,  ii.  172 

Jenyns, Soame.  his  adherence  to  the 
opinion  of  Ockham,  i.  17,  note 

Jerome,  St.,  on  exorcism,  i.  382.  On 
the  clean  and  unclean  animals  iu 
the  ark,  ii.  104.  Legend  of,  115. 
Encouraged  inhumanity  of  asep- 
tics to  their  relations,  134.  His 
legend  of  SS.  Paul  and  Antony, 
158 

Jews,  their  law  regulating  marriage 
and  permitting  polygamy,  i.  103. 
Their  treatment  of  suicides,  218, 
note.  Influence  of  their  manners 
and  creed  at  Rome,  235,  337. 
Became  the  principal  exorcists, 
380,  381,  note.  Spread  of  their 
creed  in  Rome,  386.  Reasons 
why  they  were  persecuted  less 
than  the  Christians,  402,  407. 
How  regarded  by  the  pagans,  a  nd 
how  the  Christians  were  regarded 
by  the  Jews,  415.  Charges  of 
immorality  brought  against  the 
Christians  by  the  Jews,  417. 
Domitian's  taxation  of  them,  432. 
Their  views  of  the  position  of 
women,  ii.  337 

Joffre,  Juan  Gilaberto,  his  founda- 
tion of  a  lunatic  asylum  in  Va- 
lencia, ii.  89 

John,  St.,  at  Patmos,  \.  433 

John,  St.,  of  Calama,  story  of,  ii. 
128 

John  XXIII ,  Pope,  his  crimes,  ii. 
331 

Johnson,  Dr.,  his  adherence  to  the 
opinion  of  Ockham,  i.  1 7,  note 

Julian,  the  Emperor,  his  tranquil 
death,  i.  207,  and  note.  Refuses 
the  language  of  adulation,  259. 
His  attempt  to  resuscitate  p.igzin- 
ism,  331,  Attitude  of  the  Church 
towards  him,  ii.  261.  Joy  at  hia 
death,  262 


390 


INI>EX. 


JUL 

Julicn  I'itospjtalier,  St.,  legend  of, 
ii.  84,  note 

Jupiter  Ammon,  fountain  of,  deemed 
iiiiraculous,  i.  366,  and  note 

Justinian,  his  laws  respecting  slaTeiy, 
ii.  65 

Jnstin  Mart}T,  his  recognition  of  the 
excellence  of  many  parts  of  the 
pagan  Avritings,  i.  344.  Oq  the 
'.seminal  logos,'  344.  On  the 
>Sibylline  books,  376.  Cause  of 
his  conversion  to  Christianity,  415. 
His  martyrdom,  441 

Jnrenal,  on  the  nsitunil  virtue  of 
man,  i.  197 

KAJVIES,  Lord,  on  our  mor;il  jndg- 
ments,  i.  77.    Notices  the  aoji- 
logies   between    our    moral    and 
sesthetical  judgments,  77 
King's  evil,  ceremony  of  touching 
for  til©,  i.  363,  note 


I'  ABIENUS,  his  works  destroyed, 
J     i.  448,  note 

Lacfcmtius,  character  of  his  treatise, 
i.  463 

IjO-torins,  story  of,  i.  259 

Liiughing  condemned  by  the  monks 
of  the  desert,  ii.  115,  note 

Lii-w,  Poman,  its  relation  to  Stoi- 
cism, i.  294,  295.  Its  golden  age 
not  Christian,  but  pagan,  ii.  42 

Lawyors,  their  position  in  literature, 
i.  131,  note 

LeiracJes  forbidden  to  the  clergj-,  ii. 
151.  PoTver  of  making  bequests 
to  the  clergy  ©ularged  by  Constan- 
tino, 215 

I.,cibnitz,  on  the  natural  or  innate 
powers  of  man,  i.  121,  note 

[xo  the  Isanrian,  Pope,  his  compact 
with  Pepin,  ii.  266 

l.efjDardo  da  Vinci,  his  kindness  to 
animals,  ii.  172,  note 

Licentiousness,  French,  Ilnme's  com- 
ments on,  i.  60,  note 


MAC 

Locke,  Jofin,  his  view  of  mopil 
good  and  moral  evil,  i.  8,  note. 
His  theological  utilitarianism,  16, 
note.  His  view  of  the  sanctions 
of  morality,  19.  His  invention 
of  the  phrase  'association  of 
ideas,'  23.  His  definition  of  con- 
science, 29,  note.  Cousin's  objec- 
tions agjiinst  him,  75,  note.  His 
refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
natural  moral  sense,  123,  124. 
Rise  of  the  sensual  school  out  of 
his  philosophy,  123,  woifc.  Famous 
formulary  of  his  school,  124 

Lombard,  Peter,  character  of  his 
'  Sentences.'  ii.  226.  His  visions 
of  heaven  and  hell,  228 

Longinus,  his  suicide,  i.  219 

Love  terms  Greek,  in  vogue  with 
the  Romans,  i.  231,  vote 

Lucan,  failure  of  his  courage  under 
torture,  i.  194.  His  sycophancy, 
191.     His  cosmopolhanism,  240 

Lucius,  the  bishop,  martyrdom  of,  i. 
454 

Lucretius,  his  scepticism,  i.  162. 
His  disbelief  in  the  immoitality 
of  the  soul,  i.  182,  note.  His 
praise  of  Epicurus,  197.  His 
snicide,  215.  On  a  bereaved  co^v, 
ii.  165 

Lunatic  asylum.s,  the  first,  ii.  89 

Lutlior's  wife,  lier  remark  on  tlie 
sensuous  creed  slie  had  left,  i.  62 

Lyons,  persecution  of  the  Christiajis 
at,  i.  441 


MACARIUS,  .St.,  miracle  attri- 
buted  to,  ii.  40,  note.  His 
penances,  108,  109.  Li'gend  of 
ids  visit  to  an  enchanted  gar<]en, 

158.  Other  legends  of  him,  158, 

159,  170,  '220 

Macedonia,  eifcct  of  the  conquest  of, 
on  the  dwrtdcnco  of  Rome,  i.  169 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James,  tlieory  of 
morals  advocated  by,  i.  4.     Fiu»> 


INDEX. 


391 


MAC 

dilation  of  Hartley's  doctnne  of 
association  over  his  mind,  29 

Macrianus,  persuades  the  Emperor 
Valerian  to  persecute  the  Christ- 
ians, i.  455 

Macrina  Cselia,  her  benevolence  to 
children,  ii.  77 

Magdalen  asylums,  adversaries  of, 
ii.  98,  and  note 

Mallonia,  virtue  of,  ii.  3't9 

Malthus,  on  charity,  ii.  92,  twfe 

Mnndeville,  bis  'Enqiiiry  into  tlie 
Origin  of  Moral  Virtue.'  His 
thesis  that  '  private  vices  are  pub- 
lic benefits,'  i.  7.  His  opposition 
to  charity  schools,  ii.  98 

Manicheans,  their  tenets,  ii.  102. 
Their  prohibition  of  animal  food, 
167 

Manilius,  his  conception  of  the 
Deity,  i.  163 

Manufactures,  influence  upon  morals, 
i.  139 

Marcellinus,  TuUius,  his  self-de- 
struction, i.  222 

Marcia,  mistress  of  Commodus,  her 
iLfluence  in  behalf  of  toleration  to 
the  Christians,  i.  443  ' 

Marcian,  St.,  legend  of  the  visit  of 
St.  Avitus  to  him,  ii.  159 

Marcus,  St.,  story  of,  and  his  mother, 
ii.  128 

Marriage,  how  regarded  by  the 
Jews,  Greeks,  Romans,  and  Catho- 
lics, i.  103.  101.  Statins'  picture 
of  the  first  night  of  marriage,  107, 
note.  Eoason  "why  the  ancient 
Jews  attached  a  certain  stigma  to 
virginity,  109.  Conflict  of  vie-ws 
of  the  Catholic  priest  and  the 
political  economist  on  the  subject 
of  early  marriages,  114.  Eesults 
in  some  countries  of  the  difficulties 
with  ■which  legislators  surround 
marriage,  144.  Early  niarnngcs 
the  most  conspicuous  proofs  of 
Irish  improvidence,  144.  Influ- 
ence   of  asceticism    jn,    ii.    320. 


MIL 

Notions     of    its    impurity,    324. 
Second  marriages,  324 

Marseilles,  law  of,  respecting  suicide, 
i.  218,  note.     Epidemic  of  suicide 
among  the  women  of,  ii.  55 
,   Martial,  sycophancy  of  his  epigrams, 
i.  194 

Martin  of  Tours.  St.,  establishes 
monachism  in  Gaul,  ii.  106 

Martyrdoo),  glories  of,  i.  390.  Festi- 
vals of  the  Martyrs,  390,  note. 
Passion  for,  391.  Dissipation  of 
the  people  at  the  festivals,  ii.  150 

Mary,  St.,  of  Egypt,  ii.  110 

Mary,  the  Virgin,  veneration  of,  ii. 
367,  368,  390 

Massiiians,  wine  forbidden  to  women- 
by  the,  i.  96,  note 

Maternal  affection,  strength  of,  ii. 
25,  note 

Maurice,  on  the  social  penalties  of 
conscience,  i.  60,  note 

Maui'icus,  Junius,  his  refusal  to  al- 
low cfladiatorial  shows  at  Vienna, 
i.  286 

Maxentius,  instance  of  his  tyranny, 
ii.  46 

Maximiliaiius,  his  martyrdom,  ii.  248 

Maiiminus,  Emperor,  his  persecu- 
tion of  the  Christians,  i.  446 

Maximus  of  Tyre,  account  of  him 
and  his  discourses,  i.  312.  His 
defence  of  the  ancient  creeds,  323. 
Practical  form  of  his  philosophy, 
329 

Medicine,  possible  progress  of,  i.  158, 
159 

Melaniii,  St.,  her  bereavement,  ii. 
10.  Her  pilgrimage  through  the 
Svrian  and  Egyptian' hermitages, 
120 

Milesians,  wine  forbidlon  by  the,  V) 
women,  i.  94,  note 

Military  honour  pre-eminent  among 
theKomans.  i.  172,  173.  History 
of  the  decadence  of  Konmn  mili- 
tary virtue,  268 

Mill,  J.,omssDciation,  2b,note,eisi'q, 


392 


INDEX. 


MIL 

Mill,  J.  S.,  quoted,  i.  29,  47,  90, 102 
Minerva,  meaning  of,  according  to 

the  Stoics,  i.  163 
Miracles,  general,  incredulity  on  the 
subject  of,  at  the  present  time,  i. 
3-t6,  348.     Miracles  not  impossi- 
ble,   347.     Established  by  much 
evidence,    347.     The   histories  of 
them  always  decline  with  educa- 
tion, 348.     Illu'-tration  of  this  in 
the  belief  in  fairies,    348.     Con- 
ceptions of  savages,  349.  Legends, 
formation  and  decay  of,  350-352. 
Common  errors  in  reasoning  about 
miracles,  356.     Predisposition  to 
the  miraculous  in  some  states  of 
society,  362.  Belief  of  the  Komans 
in  miracles,  363-367.    Incapacity 
of  the  Christians  of  the  third  cen- 
tury for  judging  historic  miracles, 
375.     Contemporary  miracles  be- 
lieved in  by  the  early  Christians, 
378.  Exorcism,  378.  Neither  past 
nor  contemporary  Christian  mira- 
cles had  much  weight  upon  the 
pagans,  378 
Missionary  labours,  ii.  24G 
Mithra,  worship  of,  in  Eome,  i.  386 
JMohammedans,  their  condemnation 
of  suicide,  ii.  53.    Their  lunatic 
asylums,  89.    Their  religion,  251. 
Effects  of  their  militaiy  triumphs 
on  Christianity,  252 
Molinos,  his  opinion  on  the  love  we 
should  bear  to  God,  condemned,  i, 
18,  note 
Monastic     system,    results    of   the 
Catholic  monastic  system,  i.  107. 
Suicideof  monks,  ii.  52.  Exertions 
of    the    monks   in    the   cause   of 
charity,   84.     Causes  of  the  mo- 
nastic movement,    102.     History 
of  the  rapid  propagation  of  it  in 
the  AVest,  183.   New  valup  placed 
by  it  on  obedience  and  humility, 
185,  269.     Relation  of  it  to  the 
intellectual    virtues,    188.      The 
monasteries  regarded  as  the  re- 


MOB 

ceptacles  of  learning,  199.  Fallacy 
of  attributing  to  the  monasteries 
the  genius  that  was  displayed  in 
theology,    208.      Other    fallacies 
concerning  the    services    of   the 
monks,  208-212.    Value  attached 
by  monks  to  pecuniary  compensa- 
tions  for  crime,  213.     Causes  of 
their    corruption,    217.     Benefits 
conferred  by  the  monasteries,  243 
Monica,  St.,  i.  94,  7iote 
Monogamy,  establishment  of,  ii.  372 
Monophysites,    the   cause,    to   some 
extent,  of  the  Mohammedan  con 
quest  of  EgA-pt,  ii.  143 
Montanists,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 
Moral   distinctions,   rival  claims  of 
intuition  and  utility  to  be  regarded 
as  the  supremo  regulators  of,  i.  1 
Mcral  judgments,  alleged  diversities 
of,  i.  91.     Are  frequently  due  to 
intellectual  causes,  92.     Instances 
of  this  in  usury  and  abortion,  92. 
Distinction  between  natural  duties 
and  others  resting  on  positive  law, 

93.  Ancient  customs  canonised 
by  time,  93.  Anomalies  explained 
by  a  confused  association  of  ideas, 

94,  95.  Moral  perceptions  over- 
ridden by  positive  religions,  95. 
Instances  of  this  in  transubstan- 
tiation  and  the  Augustinian  and 
Calvinistic  doctrines  of  damnation, 
96,  97.  General  moral  principles 
alone  revealed  by  intuition,  99. 
The  moral  unity  of  different 
ages  a  unity  not  of  standard 
but  of  tendency,  100.  Application 
of  this  theory  to  the  history  of 
benevolence,  100.  Reasons  why 
acts  regarded  in  one  age  as  crimi- 
nal arc  innocent  in  another,  101. 
Views  of  Mill  and  Buckle  on  th« 
comp.ir:itivo  influence  of  intellec- 
tual and  moral  agencies  in  civili- 
sation, 102,  103,  no-'e.  Intuitive 
morals  not  \niproirressivn,  102, 
103.     Answn-.s    to    mis 'cllarieona 


INDEX. 


393 


HOB 

oljjections  against  the  theory  of 
natural  moral  perceptions,  109. 
Effect  of  the  condition  of  society 
on  tha  standard,  but  not  the 
essence,  of  virtue,  110.  Occa- 
sicnal  duty  of  sacrificing  higher 
duties  to  lower  ones,  110,  et  seq. 
Summary  of  the  relations  of  virtue 
and  public  and  private  interest, 
117.  Two  senses  of  the  Avord 
natural,  119 

Moral  law,  foundation  of  the,  accord- 
ing to  Ockham  and  his  adherents, 
i.  17,  note.  Various  views  of  the 
sanctions  of  morality,  19.  Utili- 
tarian tiieological  sanctions,  53. 
The  reality  of  tlie  moral  nature 
the  one  great  question  of  natural 
theology,  56.  Utilitarian  secular 
sanctions,  67.  The  Utilitiirian 
theory  subversive  of  morality,  66. 
Plausibility  and  danger  of  tlieories 
of  unification  in  morals,  72.  Our 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  moral 
progress  nothing  more  than  ap- 
proximate or  general,  1,36 

'  Moral  sense,'  Hutcheson's  doctrine 
of  a,  i.  4 

Moral  system,  what  it  should  bo,  tc 
govern  society,  i.  194 

Morals,  each  of  the  two  schools  of, 
related  to  the  general  condition  of 
society,  i.  122.  Tlieir  relations  to 
metaphysical  schools,  123,  124. 
And  to  the  Baconian  pliilosophy, 
125.  Contrast  between  ancient 
and  modern  civilisations,  125-127. 
Causes  that  lead  societies  to  ele- 
vate their  moral  standard,  and 
determine  their  preference  of  some 
particular  kind  of  virtues,  130. 
The  order  in  which  moral  feelings 
are  developed,  130.  Danger  in 
proposing  too  absolutely  a  single 
character  as  a  model  to  which  all 
men  must  conform,  155.  Remarks 
on  moral  types,  156.  Resu'ts  to 
!••  oypected  from  the  study  of  the 


NOL 

relations  netween  our  physical  and 
moral  nature,  158.  Little  influ- 
ence of  Pagan  religions  on  morals, 
161 

More,  Henry,  on  the  motive  of  virtue, 
i.  76 

Musonius,  his  suicide,  i.  220 

Mutius,  history  of  him  and  his  son, 
ii.  125 

Mysticism  of  the  Romans,  caui^es 
producing,  i.  318 

Myths,  formation  of, :.  351 


"VTAPLES,  mania  for  suici-Ie  at,  ti. 

Napoleon,  the  Empei*or,  his  onlor  i>f 
the  day  respecting  suicide,  i.  219, 
note 

Nations,  causes  of  the  difB':^ulties  of 
effecting  cordial  international 
friendships,  i,  lt'>6 

Natural  moral  perceptions,  objec 
tions  to  the  theory  of,  i.  116. 
Two  senses  of  the  word  natural, 
118.  Held,  Sedgwick,  and  Leib- 
nitz on  the  natural  or  innate 
powers  of  man,  \'l\,note.  Locke's 
refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  ;v 
natural  moral  sense,  124 

Neop'atonism,  account  of,  i.  325. 
Its  destruction  of  the  active 
duties  and  critical  spirit,  329 

Neptune,  views  of  the  Stoics  of  the 
meaning  of  the  legends  of,  i.  163. 
His  statue  solemnly  degraded  bj 
Augustus,  169 

Nero,  his  singing  and  acting,  i.  259. 
His  liw  about  slaves,  307-  His 
persecution  of  the  Christians,  429 

Newman,  Dr.,  on  venial  sin,  i.  Ill, 
and  note  on  pride,  ii.  188 

Nicodcmus,  apocryphal  gosjiel  of,  ii. 
221 

Nilus,  St.,  deserts  his  family,  ii.  322 

Nitria,  number  of  anchorites  in  iho 
desert  of,  ii.  105 

Nolasco,  Peter,  his  A^orks  of  mercy, 


394 


INDEX 


SOV 

ii    73.     ills  participatiou  In  the 
Albigensian  massacres,  95 
NovatiaES,  their  tenets,  ii.  102 
N^ima,  legend  of  his  prohibition  of 
idols,  L  166,  note 


OATH,  sanctity  of  an,  among  tha 
Romans,  i.  168 

Obedience,  new  value  placed  on  it 
by  monachism,  ii.  185,  186,  269 

01)ligation,  nature  of,  i.  6i,  65 

Ockham,  his  opinion  of  the  founda- 
tion of  the  moral  law,  i.  17,  ivnd 
tmte 

Odin,  his  suicide,  ii.  53 

O'Neale,  Shane,  his  charity,  ii.  96 

Opinion,  influence  of  character  on, 
i.  171,  172 

Oracles,  refuted  and  ridiculed  liy 
Cicero,  i.  165.  Plutarch'.s  defence 
of  their  bad  poetry,  165,  note. 
Refusal  of  Cato  and  the  Stoics  to 
consult  them,  165.  Ridiculed  by 
the  Roman  wits,  166.  Answer 
of  the  oracle  of  Delphi  as  to  the 
best  religion,  167.  Theory  of  the 
oracles  in  the  'Do  Diviriationo' 
of  Cicero,  368,  and  note.  Van 
Dale's  denial  of  their  supernatural 
character,  374.  Books  of  oracles 
burnt  under  the  republic  and 
empire,  447,  and  note 

Origen,  his  desire  for  martyKlom,  i. 
391 

Orphanotrophia,  in  the  early  Church, 
ii.  32 

Otho.  the  Emperor,  his  suicide,  i. 
219.  Opinion  of  his  contempo- 
raries of  Ills  act,  219,  note 

Ovid,  object  of  his '  Metamorphoses,' 
i.  166.  His  condemnation  of 
suicide,  213,  .and  note.  His  hu- 
manity to  animals,  ii.  165 

Oxen,  laws  for  the  protection  of,  ii. 
162 

Oxyrinchus,  ascetic  life  in  the  city 
of,  ii.  105 


PAl 

PACHOMIUS,  St.,  number  of  his 
monks,  ii.  105 
Paetus  and  Arria,  history  of,  ii.  310 
Pagan  religions,  their  feeble  influ- 
ence on  morals,  i.  161 
Pagan  virtues,  the,  compared  with 

Christian,  i.  190 
Paiderastia,  the,  of  the  Greeks,  ii, 

294 
Pain,  equivalent  to  evil,  according 

to  the  Utilitarians,  i.  8,  note 
Palestine,  foundation  of  monachism 
in,  ii.  106.     Becomes  a  hot-bed  of 
debauchery,  152 
Paley,  on  the  obligation  of  virtue,  i. 
14,  note.     On  the  difference  be- 
tween an  act  of  prudence  and  an 
act   of  duty,   16,  note.     On   the 
love  we  ought  to  bear  to  God,  18, 
note.     On  the  religious  sanctions 
of  morality,  19.     On  the  doctrine 
of  association,  25,  note.     On  flesh 
diet,  49,  note.     On  tlie  influence 
of  health   on  happiness,  88,  note. 
On  the  difference  in  pleasures,  90, 
note 
Panibos,  St.,  story  of,  ii.  116,  note 
PamniMchus,  St.,  his  hospital,  ii.  80 
Pana?tius,  the  founder  of  the  Roman 
Stoics,  his  disbelief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  i.  183 
Pandars,  punishment  of,  ii.  316 
Parents,  reason  wiiy  some  savages 
did   not  regard   tlieir   murder  us 
criminal,  i.  101 
Parthenon,  the,  at  Athens,  i.  105 
Pascal,  his  advocacy  of  piety  as  a 
matter  of  prudence,  i.    17,  note. 
His  adherence  to  the  opinion  of 
Ockham  as  to  the  foundation  of 
the   moral   law,    17,    note.      His 
thought  on  the  humiliat  ion  creatt'd 
by  deriving  pleasure  from  certjiin 
amusements,  i.  86,  note 
Pati  iot  ism,  period  whfii  it  flourished, 
i.  136.     Peculiar  ciiaractcristic  of 
the  virtue,  177,   178.     Causes  o\ 
the  predominance  occasionally  ac- 


INDEX. 


SOc*) 


PAU 

corded  to  civic  virtues,  200.  Neg- 
lect or  discredit  into  which  they 
have  fallen  among  modern  teach- 
ers, 201.  Cicero's  remarks  on  tlie 
duty  of  every  good  man,  201. 
Unfortunate  rehitions  of  Chris- 
tianity to  patriotism,  ii.  140.  Ee- 
pugnance  of  the  theological  to 
the  patriotic  spirit,  146 

Paul.  St.,  his  definition  of  conscience, 
i.  83 

Paul,  the  hermit,  his  flight  to  the 
desert,  ji.  102.  Legend  of  the 
visit  of  St.  Antony  to  him;  1 58 

Paul,  St.  Mncont  de,  his  foundling 
hospitals,  ii.  34 

Paula,  t<tory  of  her  asceticism  and 
inhumanity,  ii.  133,  134 

Paulina,  her  devotion  to  her  hus- 
band, ii.  310 

Pelagia,  St.,  her  suicide,  ii.  46. 
Her  flight  to  the  de.sert,  121,  and 
note 

Pehigius,  ii.  223 

Pelican,  legend  of  the,  ii.  161 

Penances  of  the  saints  of  the  desert, 
ii.  107,  tt  seq. 

Penitential  system,  the,  of  the  early 
church,  ii.  6,  7 

Pepin,  his  compact  with  Pope  Leo, 
ii.  267 

Peregrinus  the  Cynic,  his  suicide,  i. 
220 

Pericles,  his  humanity,  i.  228 

Perpetua,  St.,  her  martyrdom,  i. 
391,  444;  ii.317 

Persecutions.  Catholic  doctrines  jus- 
tifying, i.  98.  Why  Christianity 
was  not  crushed  by  them,  395. 
Many  caiLses  of  persecution,  395- 
397.  Reasons  why  the  Chri.'-tians 
were  more  persecuted  than  the 
Jews,  403,  406,  407.  Cau.ses  of 
the  persecutions,  406,  et  seq.  His- 
tory of  the  persecutions,  429. 
Nei-o,  429.  Domitian.  431.  Tra- 
jan, 437.  Marcus  Aurelius.  439, 
440.       From     M.     Aureli'is     to 


PIR 

Decius,  442,  et  seq.  Gallns,  454. 
Valerian,  454.  Diocletian  and 
Galerius,  458-463.  Eod  of  tli", 
persecutions,  463.  General  cou- 
siderations  on  their  history,  463- 
468 

Petronian  law,  in  favour  of  slaves, 
i.  307 

Petronius,  his  scepticism,  i.  162. 
His  suicide,  215.  His  condemna- 
tion of  the  show  of  the  arena,  286 

Philip  the  Arab,  his  favour  to  Chris- 
tianity, i.  445 

Pliilosophers,  eflforts  of  some,  to 
restore  the  moral  influence  of 
religion  among  the  Romans,  i. 
169.  The  true  moml  teacht-rs. 
171 

Philosophical  truth,  characteris'ics 
of,  i.  139,  140.  Its  growth  re- 
tarded by  the  opposition  of  theo- 
logians, 140 

Philosophy,  causes  of  the  practical 
cliai'acter  of  most  ancient,  i.  202. 
Its  fusion  with  reliijion,  352. 
Opinions  of  the  early  Church  cou- 
Cf ruing  the  pagan  writings,  o3'2. 
Difference  between  the  ntor.d 
teaching  of  a  philosophy  and  that 
of  a  religion,  ii.  1.  Its  impotency 
to  restrain  vice,  4 

Phocas,  attitude  of  the  Church  to 
wards  him,  ii.  263 

Phocion,  his  gentleness,  i.  228 

Physical  scicnc-e  affects  the  belief  iu 
miracles,  i.  354,  355 

Piety,  utilitarian  view  of  the  causes 
of  the  plea.sures  and  pains  of,  i.  9, 
and  note.  A  matter  of  prudence, 
according  to  theological  Utilita- 
rianism, 16 

Pilate,  Pontius,  story  of  his  desire 
to  enrol  Clirist  among  the  Rora.in 
gods,  i.  429 

Pilgrimages,  evils  of,  ii.  152 

Pior,  St..  story  of  ii.  129 

Pirates,  destruction  of,  by  Poir.pcy 
i.  234 


396 


INDEX. 


PIT 

Pity,  a  form  of  self-love,  according 
to  some  Utilitarians,  i.  9, 10,  note. 
Adam  Smith's  theory,  10,  note. 
Seneca's  dibtinction  between  it 
and  clemency,  189.  Altar  to 
Pity  at  Athens,  228.  History  of 
Marcds  Anrelius'  altar  to  Benefi- 
centia  at  Rome,  228,  note 

f'lato,  his  admission  of  the  practice 
of  abortion,  i.  92.  Basis  of  his 
moral  system,  105.  Cause  of  the 
banishment  of  the  poets  from  his 
republic,  161,  ir.2.  His  theory 
that  rice  is  to  A'irtue  what  disease 
is  to  health,  179,  and  note.  Rea- 
son for  his  advocacy  of  community 
of  wives,  200.  His  condemnation 
of  suicide,  212,  and  note.  His  re- 
marks on  universal  brotherhood, 
241.  His  inculcation  of  the  prac- 
tice of  self-examination,  248 

Platonic  school,  its  ideal,  i.  322 

Platonists,  their  more  or  less  pan- 
theistic conception  of  the  Deity, 
1.  163.  Practical  nature  of  their 
philosophy,  329.  The  Platonic 
ethics  ascendant  in  Home,  331 

Pleasure  the  only  good,  according  to 
the  Utilitarians,  i.  7.  Hlustra- 
tions  of  tiio  distinction  between 
the  higiier  and  lower  parts  of  our 
nature  in  our  pleasures,  83-85. 
Pleasures  of  a  civilised  compared 
with  those  of  a  semi-civilised 
society,  86.  Comparison  of  mcn- 
tiil  and  physiail  pleasures,  87, 
88.  Distinction  in  kind  of  plea- 
sure, and  its  importance  in  morals, 
89-91.  Neglected  or  denied  by 
I^tilitarian  writers,  89,  note 

Pliny,  tlio  elder,  on  tlie  probable 
hiippiness  of  the  bnver  animals, 
i.  87,  note.  On  the  Deity,  164. 
On  astrology,  171,  and  note,  164, 
note.  His  disbelief  in  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  182.  His 
advoaicv  of  suicide,  215,  Never 
mentions  Christianity,  336.     His 


POL 

opinion  of  earthquakes,  369.  And 
of  comets,  369.  His  facility  of 
belief,  370.  His  denunciation  of 
finger  rings,  ii.  148 

Pliny,  the  younger,  his  desire  for 
posthumous  reputation,  i.  185, 
note.  His  picture  of  the  ideal  of 
Stoicism,  186.  His  letter  to 
Trajan  respecting  the  Christians, 
437.    His  benevolence,  242;  ii.  77 

Plotinus,  his  condemnation  of  sui- 
cide, i.  214.  His  philosophy, 
330 

Plutarch,  his  defence  of  the  bad 
poetry  of  the  oracles,  165,  note. 
His  mode  of  moral  teaching,  175. 
Basis  of  his  belief  in  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  204.  On  super- 
stitious fear  of  death,  206.  His 
bitter  on  tlie  death  of  his  little 
daugliter,  242.  May  justly  be  re- 
garded as  the  leader  of  the  eclectic 
school,  243.  His  pliilosophy  and 
works  compared  with  those  of 
Seneca,  243.  His  treatise  on 
'The  Signs  of  Moral  Progress,' 
249.  Compared  and  contrasted 
with  Mari'us  Aurelius,  253.  How 
he  regarded  tlie  games  of  the 
arena,  286.  His  defence  of  the 
ancient  creeds,  322.  Practical 
nature  of  his  philosophy,  329. 
Never  mentions  Christianity,  336. 
His  remarks  on  tne  domestic 
system  of  the  ancients,  419.  On 
kindness  to  animals,  ii.  165,  166. 
His  picture  of  Greek  married 
life,  289 

Pluto,  meaning  of,  according  to  the 
Stoics,  i.  163 

Po,  miracle  of  the  subsidence  of  the 
waters  of  the,  i.  382,  note 

Poemen,  St.,  story  of,  and  of  his 
mother,  ii.  129.  Legend  of  him 
and  the  lion,  169 

Political  economy,  what  it  has  ac- 
com]ilishcd  respecting  alm.sgiving, 
ii.  90 


IKDEX. 


307 


POL 

Political  judgments,  moral  standard 
of  most  men  in,  lower  than  in 
private  judgments,  i.  151 

Political  truth,  or  habit  of  'fair 
play,'  the  characteris-tic  of  free 
communities,  i.  139.  Highly 
civilised  form  of  society  to  which 
it  belongs,  139,  Its  growth  re- 
tarded by  the  opposition  of  theo- 
logians, 140 

Polybius,  his  praise  of  the  devotion 
and  purity  of  creed  of  the  Romans, 
i,  167 

Polycarp,  St.,  martyrdom  of,  i.  441 

Polygamy,  long  continuance  of, 
among  the  kings  of  Gaul,  ii.  343 

Pompeii,  gladiatorial  shows  at,  i. 
276,  note 

Pompey,  his  destruction  of  the 
pirates,  i.  234.  His  multiplica- 
tion of  gladiatorial  shows,  273 

Poor-law  system,  elaboration  of  the, 
ii.  96.  Its  pernicious  results,  97, 
99,  105 

Poppaea,  Empress,  a  Jewish  prose- 
lyte, i.  386 

Porcia,  heroism  of,  ii   309 

Porphyry,  his  condemnation  of  sui- 
cides, i.  214.  His  description  of 
philosophy,  i.  326.  His  adoption 
of  Neoplatouism,  i.  330 

Posseviu,  his  exposure  of  the  Sibyl- 
lino  books,  i.  377 

Pothinus,  martyrdom  of,  i.  442 

Power,  origin  of  the  desire  of,  i.  23, 
2(5 

Praise,  association  of  ideas  leading 
to  the  desire  for  even  postlmmous, 
i.  26 

Prayer,  reflex  influence  upon  the 
minds  of  the  worshippers,  i.  36 

Preaclinrs,  Stoic,  among  the  Romans, 
i.  308,  309 

Pride,  contrasted  with  vanity,  i.  195. 
Tlie  leading  moral  agent  of  Stoi- 
cism, i.  195 

Prometheus,  cause  of  tlie  admiration 
bestowed  upon,  i.  3d 


REI 

Prophecies,  incapacity  of  the  Chris- 
trans  of  tho  third  century  foi 
judging  prophecies,  i.  37'^ 

Prophecy,  gift  of,  attributed  to  tlio 
vestal  virgins  of  Rome,  i.  10?. 
And  in  India  to  virgins,  l(i7, 
note 

Prosperity,  some  crimes  conducive 
to  national,  i.  o8 

Prostitution,  ii.  282-286.  How  r»- 
giirded  by  the  Romans,  314 

Protagoras,  his  scepticism,  i.  162 

Protasius,  St.,  miraculous  discovery 
of  his  rem.iins,  i.  379 

Prudeiitius,  on  the  vestal  virgins  at 
the  gLidiatorial  shows,  i.  291 

Purgatorj',  doctrine  of.  ii.  232-235 

Pythagoras,  s.iyingof,  i.  53.  thnstity 
the  leading  virtue  of  his  si-hool, 
\^&.  On  the  fables  of  Ilesiod 
and  Hom.r,  161.  His  belit-f  in 
an  alJ-porvading  soul  of  nature, 
162.  His  condemnation  of  sui- 
cide, 212.  Tradition  of  his  jour- 
ney to  India,  229,  note.  His  in- 
culcation of  the  practice  of  self- 
examination,  248.  His  opinion 
of  earthquakes,  369.  His  doctrine 
of  kindness  to  animals,  ii.  165 


QUAKERS,    compared  wirh    the 
early   Christians,    ii.    12,  and 
note 
Quintilian,   his   conception   of    tlie 
Deity,  i.  164 


RANK,  secular,  consecration  of,  ii. 
260,  et  seq 
Rape,  punishment  for,  ii.  316 
Redbreast,  legend    of   the,    ii.   224. 

note 
Regulus,  tho  .'toryof,  i.  212 
Reid,  basis  of  his  ethics,  i.  76.     Hia 
distinction  between  innate  facul- 
ties  evolved  by   experience  and 


idh 


INDEX. 


BEL 

innate  ideas  independent  of  expe- 
rience, 121,  note 

Religion,  tbteoL  gieal  utilibirianism 
subverts  natural,  i.  54-66.  An- 
swer of  the  oracle  of  Delphi  as  to 
the  best,  167.  Difference  between 
the  moral  teaching  of  a  philoso- 
phy and  that  of  a  religion,  ii.  1. 
Rehitions  between  positive  reli- 
gion and  moral  enthusiasm,  1-11 

Religions,  pagan,  their  small  influ- 
ence on  morals,  i,  161.  Oriental, 
passion  for,  among  the  Romans, 
318 

Religious  liberty  totally  destroyed 
by  the  Catholics,  ii.  19-1-199 

Repentance  for  past  sin,  no  place 
for,  in  the  ■writings  of  rtio  an- 
cients, i.  195 

Reputation,  how  valued  among  the 
Romans,  i.  185,  186 

Resurrection  of  souls,  belief  of  the 
Stoics  in  the,  i.  16-t 

Revenge,  Utihtnrian  notions  as  to 
the  feeling  of,  i.  41,  and  note. 
Circumstances  under  which  pri- 
vate vengeance  is  not  regarded  as 
criminal,  i.  101 

Reverence,  Utilitarian  views  of,  i.  9, 
and  7iofe.  Causes  of  tiie  diminu- 
tion of  the  spirit  of,  among  man- 
kind, 141,  142 

Rhetoricians,  Stoical,  account  of  the, 
of  Rome,  i.  310 

Kicci,  his  work  on  Mendicancy,  ii. 
98 

Rochefoucauld  La,  on  pity,  quoted, 
i.  10,  noie.  And  on  friendship, 
10,  11,  no/e 

Rogantianus,  his  pa.ssive  life,  i.  330 

Koman  law,  its  golden  age  not 
Christian,  but  pagan,  ii.  42 

Rmnans,  abortion  how  regarded  by 
the,  i.  92.  Their  law  forbidding 
women  to  taste  wine,  93,  di,iMie. 
Re;i.sons  why  they  did  not  regard 
the  gladiatorial  shows  as  criminal, 
101.     Their  law  of  marriage  and 


ROM 

ideal  of  female  morality,  104, 
Their  religious  reverence  for  do- 
mesticity, 106.  Sanciity  of,  and 
gifts  attributed  to,  their  vestal 
virgins,  106.  Character  of  thtir 
cruelty,  134.  Compared  with  the 
modern  Italian  character  in  thia 
respect,  134.  Scepticism  of  their 
philosophers,  162-167.  The  re- 
ligion of  the  Romans  never  a 
source  of  moral  enthusiasm,  167. 
Its  characteristics,  168.  Causes 
of  the  disappearance  of  the  reli- 
gious reverence  of  the  people^ 
169.  Efforts  of  some  philoso- 
phers and  emperors  to  restore  tire 
moral  influence  of  religion,  169. 
Consummation  of  Roman  degra- 
dation, 170.  Belief  iu  astrologi- 
cal fatalism,  170,  171-  The 
stoical  type  of  military  and  pa- 
triotic enthusiasm  pre-eminently 
Roman,  172-174, 178.  Importance 
of  biography  in  their  moral  teach- 
ing, 178.  Epicureanism  never 
became  a  school  of  virtue 
among  them,  175.  Unselfish  lovo 
of  country  of  the  Romans,  178. 
Character  of  Stoicism  in  the  wor&t 
period  of  the  Roman  Empire,  181. 
Main  features  of  their  philosopliy. 
185,  et  seq.  Difference  between 
the  Roman  moralists  and  the 
Greek  poets,  195.  The  doctrine 
of  suicide  the  culminating  point 
of  Roman  Stoici.-m,  222.  Th.i 
type  of  excellence  of  the  Roman 
people,  224,  225.  Contrast  be- 
tween the  activity  of  Stoicism  and 
the  luxury  of  Roman  society,  225, 

226.  Growth  of  a  gentler  and 
more  cosmopolitan  spirit  in  Rome, 

227.  Causes  of  this  change,  22°, 
ct  seq.  Extent  of  Greek  intluenco 
at  Rome,  228.  The  cosmopolitan 
sjiirit  strengthened  by  the  de- 
struction of  the  power  of  the 
aristocracy,   231,    232.      Histrjrjr 


INDEX. 


399 


BOM 

Df  the  influence  of  freedmen  in 
the  state,  233.  Effect  of  the 
aggrandisement  of  the  colonies, 
the  attraction  of  many  foreigners 
to  Rome,  and  tlie  increased  facili- 
ties for  travelling,  on  the  cos- 
mopolitan spirit,  233,  et  seq. 
Foreigners  among  the  mosc 
prominent  of  Latin  -writers,  235. 
Eesults  of  the  multitudes  of 
emancipated  slaves,  235,  236. 
Endeavours  of  Roman  statesmen 
to  consolidate  the  empire  by  ad- 
mitting the  conquered  to  tlie 
privileges  of  the  conquerors,  238. 
The  Stoical  philosopiiy  quite 
capable  of  representing  the  cos- 
mopolitan spirit,  239.  Influence 
of  eclectic  philosophy  on  the  Ro- 
man Stoics,  244.  Life  and  cha- 
racter of  Marcus  Aurelius.   249- 

255.  Corruption  of  the  Roman 
people,  255.  Causes  of  their  de- 
pravity,  256.  Decadence  of  all 
the  conditions  of  republican  virtue, 

256.  Effects  of  the  Imperial 
system  on  morals,  2o7-26L  Apo- 
theosis of  the  emperors,  257. 
Moral  consequences  of  slavery, 
262.  Increase  of  idleness  and 
demoralising  employments,  262. 
Increase  also  of  sensuality,  263. 
Destruction  of  all  public  spirit, 
264.  The  interaction  of  many 
states  ^vhich  in  new  nations  sus- 
tains national  life  prevented  by 
universal  empire,  264.  The  de- 
cline of  agricultural  pursuits,  265. 
And  of  the  militai-y  virtues,  268. 
History  and  effects  of  the  gladia- 
torial shows,  271.  Other  Rcmian 
amusements,  276.  Effects  of  the 
■irena  upon  the  theatre.  277. 
Nobles  in  the  arena,  283.  Effects 
of  Stoicism  on  the  corruption  of 
sc<:iety,  291.  Roman  law  greatly 
extended  by  it,  294.  Change  in 
the  relation   of  Romans  to  pro- 


ROM 

vincials,  297.  Changes  ii.  domestic 
legislation,  297.  Roman  .slavery, 
3 1)0-308.  The  Stoics  as  consolers, 
advisers,  and  preachers,  308.  The 
Cynics  and  rhetoricians,  309,  310. 
Decadence  of  Stoicism  in  the  em- 
pire, 317.  Causes  of  the  passion 
for  Oriental  religions,  318-320. 
Neoplatonism,  325.  Review  of 
the  history  of  Roman  philosophy, 
332-335.  History  of  the  conver- 
sion of  Rome  to  Christianity,  336. 
State  of  Roman  opinion  on  the 
suViject  of  miracles,  365.  Pro- 
gress of  the  Jewish  and  Oriental 
religions  m  Rome,  386,  387.  The 
convei'sion  of  the  Roman  empire 
easily  explicable,  393.  Review 
of  the  religious  policy  of  Rome, 
397.  Its  division  of  religion  into 
three  parts,  according  to  Kusebius, 
403  Persecutions  of  the  Chris- 
tians, 406,  et  seq.  Antipathy  of 
the  Romans  to  every  i-eligions 
system  which  employfd  religious 
terrorism,  420.  History  of  tlu-  per- 
s  cutions,  429.  General  sketch  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the  Western 
Empire,  ii.  14.  Rise  and  progress 
of  the  government  of  the  Church 
of  Rome,  14,  15.  Roman  prac- 
tice of  infanticide.  27.  Relief 
of  the  indigent,  73.  Distribu- 
tion of  corn,  74.  Exertions  of 
the  Christians  on  the  subversion 
of  the  empirf,  82.  Inadequate 
place  given  to  this  movement,  85. 
Horrors  caused  by  the  barbarian 
invasiims  prevented  to  some  ex- 
tent by  Christian  charity.  81-84. 
Influence  of  Christianity  in 
hastening  the  fall  of  the  empire, 
i40,  141.  Roman  treatment  of 
prisoners  of  war,  256-258.  Des- 
potism of  the  pagan  empire,  2(iO. 
Condition  of  women  under  the 
Romans,  297-  Their  concubines 
350 


40C 


INDEX. 


ROM 

Rome,  an  illustration  ut  crimes  eon- 
ducire  to  national  prosperity,  i.  58, 
note.  Conversion  of,  336.  Three 
popular  errors  concerning  its  con- 
version, 339.  Capture  of  the 
city  by  the  barbarians,  ii.  82 

Romuald,  ^t.,  his  treatment  of  his 
father,  ii.  13o 

Rope-dancing  of  tlie  Romans,  i. 
291 


SARINUS,  Saint,  his  penances,  ii. 
108 

Sacrament.,  administration  of  the,  in 
the  early  Church,  ii.  6 

Salamis,  Brutus'  treatment  of  the 
citizens  of,  i,  194 

Sallust,  his  stoicism  and  rapacity,  i. 
194 

Sanctuary,  right  of,  accorded  to 
Christian  churches,  ii.  40 

Savage,  errors  into  "which  tlie  de- 
ceptive appearances  of  nature 
doom  him,  i.  64.  First  concep- 
tions formed  of  the  universe,  3 19. 
The  ethics  of  savages,  120,  121 

Scepticism  of  llio  Greek  and  Roman 
philosophers,  i.  162-Ui6.  In- 
fluence of,  on  intellectui^l  progress, 
ii.  193 

Scholastica,  St.,  the  legend  of,  ii. 
1 36,  note 

Scifi,  Clara,  the  first  Franciscan  nun, 
ii.  135 

Sectarian  animosity,  chief  cause  of, 
i.  134 

Sedgwick,  Professor,  on  tlie  expan- 
sion of  the  natural  or  iniuito 
powers  of  men,  i.  121,  note 

Sejaiius,  treatment  of  his  daughter 
liy  tlio  senate,  i.  107,  note 

Sdlf-denial,  the  Utilitarian  theory 
unfavourable  to,  i.  66 

Self-cxamiiialiun,  history  of  the 
practice  of,  i.  217-249 

Belf-sacrifico,  asceticism  the  great 
school  of.  ii.  155 


SEE 

Seneca,  his  conception  of  the  Deity, 
i.  \6Z,notc,  164.  His  di.sliuction 
between  tiie  affections  and 
diseases,  \^^,notc.  And  betweon 
clemency  and  pitj',  189.  His 
virtues  and  vices,  i.  194.  On 
the  natural  virtue  of  man  and 
power  of  liis  ■will,  197.  On  the 
Sacred  Spirit  dwelling  in  man,  198. 
On  death,  205.  llis  tranquil  end 
207.  Advocates  suicide,  213 
220.  His  description  of  the  self 
destruction  of  a  friend,  222.  His 
remarks  on  universal  brotherhood 
241.  Ilis  stoical  hardness  tempered 
by  new  doctrines,  244.  His  prac 
tice  of  self-examination,  248.  His 
philosophy  and  works  compared 
with  those  of  Plutarch,  243,  244. 
How  he  regarded  thegamesof  the 
arena,  286.  His  exhortations  on 
the  treatment  of  slaves,  306. 
Never  mentions  Christi.inity,  336. 
Rcgai'doJ  in  the  middle  ages  as  ii 
Ciiristian,  340.  On  religious  b-  - 
liefs,  405 

Sen.suality,  why  the  Mohammedans 
people  Paradise  with  images  of.  i. 
108.  AVhy  some  pagans  deified  it, 
108.  Fallacy  of  judging  the  sen- 
suality of  a  nation  by  the  statis- 
tics of  its  illegitimate  births,  144. 
Influence  of  climate  upon  public 
mor.vl.s,  144.  Of  largo  towns,  145. 
And  of  early  marriages,  146.  Ab- 
sence of  moral  scandals  among  the 
Irish  priesthood,  146,  147.  Speech 
of  Archytas  of  Tarentum  on  tht 
evils  of,  200,  note.  Increase  oi 
sensuality  in  Rome,  263.  Abatec 
by  Ciiristianity,  ii.  153.  Thi 
doctrine  of  the  FMthers  respecting 
concupiscence,  281. 

Serapion,  the  anthropomorphile,  i. 
62.  Number  of  his  monks,  ii. 
105.  His  interview  with  the 
courtesan,  320 


INDEX. 


401 


SER 

Bertorius,  his  forgery  of  auspicious 
omens,  i.  166. 

Severus,  Alexander,  refuses  the  lan- 
guage of  adulation,  i.  259.  His 
eiforts  to  restore  agricultural  pur- 
suits, 267.  Murder  of,  444.  His 
leniency  towards  Christianity, 
444.    His  benevolence,  ii.  77 

Severus,  Cassius,  exile  of,  i.  448,  note 

Soverus,  Septimus,  his  treatment  of 
the  Christians,  i.  443 

Sextius,  his  practiceof  self-examina- 
tion, i.  248 

Shaftesbury,  maintains  the  reality 
of  the  existence  of  benevolence  in 
ournature,  i.  20.  On  virtue,  76,  77 

Sibylline  books,  forged  by  the  early 
Christians,  i.  376,  377 

Silius  Italicus,  his  lines  commemo- 
rating the  passion  of  the  Spanish 
Celts  for  suicide,  i.  207,  7iole. 
His  self-destruction,  221 

Silvia,  her  filthiness,  ii.  110 

Simeon,  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  his 
martyrdom,  i.  438 

Simeon  Stylites,  St.,  his  penance,  ii. 
111.  His  inhumanity  to  his 
parents,  ii.  130 

Sin,  the  theological  doctrine  on  the 
subject,  i.  Ill,  112.  Conception 
of  sin  by  the  ancients,  195.  Origi- 
nal, taught  by  the  Catholic 
Church,  209,  210.  Examinntion 
of  the  Utilitarian  doctrine  of  the 
remote  consequences  of  secret 
sins,  43,  44 

Sisoes,  the  abbot,  stories  of,  ii.  126, 
127 

Sixtus,  Bishop  of  Rome,  his  martyr- 
dom, i.  455 

S'xtus  v.,  Pope,  his  efforts  to  sup- 
press mendicancy,  ii.  97 

Sjivery,  circumstancps  undor  which 
it  has  been  justified,  i.  101.  Ori- 
gin of  the  word  servus,  102,  7iotc. 
Crusade  of  England  .Tgaiiist,  153. 
Character  of  that  of  tlie  Komans, 
235.  Moral  consequence  of  slavery. 


SPA 

262.  Three  stages  oi  slavery  at 
Home,  300.  Review  of  the  con- 
dition of  slaves,  300-306.  Opinion 
of  philosophers  as  to  slavery,  306. 
Laws  enacted  in  favour  of  slaves, 
306.  EflTects  of  Christianity  upon 
the  institution  of  slavery,  ii.  61. 
Consecration  of  the  servile  virtues, 
68.  Impulse  given  to  manumis- 
sion, 70.  Serfdom  in  Europe,  70, 
71,  nofe.  Extinction  of  slavery 
in  Europe,  71.  Ransom  of  cap- 
tives, 72 

Smith,  Adam,  his  theory  of  pity, 
quoted,  i.  10,  note.  His  recogni- 
tion of  the  reality  of  benevolence 
in  our  nature,  20.  His  analysis 
of  moral  judgment,  76 

Smyrna,  persecution  of  the  Christ-an.s 
at,  i.  441 

Socrates,  his  view  of  death,  i.  "iOS. 
His  closing  hours,  207.  His  ad  rice 
to  a  courtesan,  ii.  2S6 

Soul,  the  immortality  of  the,  r?so- 
lutely  excluded  from  the  teaching 
of  the  Stoics,  i.  181.  Chanicter 
of  their  first  notions  on  the  sub- 
ject, 182.  The  belief  in  the  reab- 
sorption  of  the  soul  in  the  paieut 
Spirit,  183.  Belief  of  Cicero  and 
Plutarch  in  the  immortality  of  the 
204.  But  never  adopted  as  a  mo- 
tive by  the  Stoics,  204.  Increasing 
belief  in  the,  331.  Vague  belief 
of  the  Romans  in  the,  168 

Sospitra,  story  of,  i.  373 

Spain,  persecution  of  the  Christians 
in,  i.  461.  Almost  complete  ab- 
sence of  infanticide  in,  ii.  25,  votr. 
The  first  lunatic  asylums  in  Europo 
established  in,  89,  90 

Spaniards,  among  the  most  prominent 
of  Latin  writers,  i.  235.  Their  sui- 
cides, ii.  64 

Spartans,  their  intense  patriotism,  i. 
178.    Their  legislature  continually 
extolled  as  a  model,  201.     Condi 
tion  of  tiieir  women,  ii.  29f' 


402 


IHDEX. 


SPI 

Spiijoza,  bis  remark  on  death,  i.  203 
Anecdote  of  him,  289 

Stael,  Madame  de,  on  suicide,  ii.  59 

Statins,  on  the  first  night  of  mar- 
ri;.ga,  i.  107,  note 

Stewart,  Dugald,    en   the  pleasures    , 
of  virtue,  it  32,  nof£ 

Stilpo,  his  scepticism  and  banish- 
ment, i.  162.  His  remark  on  his 
ruin,  191. 

Stoics,  their  definition  of  conscience, 
i.  83.  Their  view  of  the  anima- 
tion of  the  human  foetus,  92. 
Their  sj'stem  of  ethics  favourahie 
to  tlie  heroic  qualities,  128.  His- 
torical fact  in  favour  of  the 
system,  128.  Their  belief  in  an 
all-pervading  soul  of  nature,  162. 
Their  pantheistic  conception  of 
the  Deity,  163.  Their  conception 
and  explanation  of  the  pi-evailing 
legends  of  the  gods,  163.  Their 
opinion  as  to  the  final  destruction 
of  the  universe  by  fire,  and  the 
resuscitation  of  souls,  164.  Their 
refusal  to  consult  tlieora>les,  165. 
Stoicism  the  expression  of  a  type 
of  character  different  from  I'^picu- 
reanism,  172.  Rome  pre-eminently 
the  homo  of  Stoicism,  172.  Ac- 
count of  the  philosophy  of  the 
Stoics,  177.  Its  two  essentials  — 
the  unselfish  ideal  and  the  sub- 
jugation of  the  affections  to  the 
reason,  177.  The  best  example  of 
the  perfect  severance  of  virtue  and 
interest,  181.  Their  views  con- 
cerning the  immortality  of  the 
Bnil,  182-1 8k  Taught  men  to 
sacrifice  repufcitfon,  and  do  goo^  in 
Bccret,  186.  And  distinguished 
the  obligation  from  the  attraction 
cf  virtue,  186.  Taught  also  that 
the  affections  must  be  subordinate 
to  the  reason,  187-191.  Tiieir 
false  estimate  of  human  nature, 
192.  Their  love  of  paradox,  192. 
Imp;rfect  lives  of  many  eminent 


STO 

Stoics,  193.  Their  retrospective 
tendencies,  193.  Their  system  un 
fitted  for  the  majority  of  mankind, 
194.  Compared  with  the  religious 
principle,  195.  The  centr.il  com- 
position of  this  philosophy,  the 
dignity  of  man,  195.  High  sense 
of  the  Stoics  of  the  natural  virtue 
of  man,  and  of  the  power  of  his 
will,  195,  196.  Their  recognition 
of  Providence,  196.  The  two  as- 
pects under  which  they  worshipped 
God,  198.  The  Stoics  secured 
from  quietism  by  their  habits 
of  public  life,  199-201.  Their 
view  of  humanity,  202.  Their  pre- 
parations for,  and  vifW  of,  death, 
202.  'J  heir  teaching  as  to  suicide, 
212,  13,  et  seq.  Contrast  be- 
tween Stoicism  and  Roman  luxury, 
225,  226.  The  Stoical  philosophy 
quite  capable  of  representing  the 
cosmopolitan  spirit,  239,  240. 
Stoicism  not  capable  of  represent- 
ing the  softening  movement  of 
civilisation.  241.  Influence  of  the 
eclectic  spirit  on  it,  244.  Stoicism 
becomes  more  essentially  religious, 
215.  Increasi  ngly  i  n  t  rospe(rti  ve 
character  of  later  Stoicism,  217. 
Marcus  Aurelius  the  best  example 
of  later  Stoicism,  249-255.  Effects 
of  Stoicism  on  the  corruption  of 
Roman  Society,  291,  292.  It 
raised   up  many  good   Emperors, 

292.  It  produced  a  noble  opposi- 
tion  under  the  worst  Emperors, 

293.  It  greatly  extended  Roman 
law,  294.  The  Stoics  considered 
as  the  consolers  of  the  suffering, 
advisers  of  the  young,  and  as 
popular  preachers,  308.  Rapid 
decadence  of  Stoicism.  317,  318. 
Difference  between  the  Stoical  and 
Egyptian  pantheism,  321.  Stoical 
naturalism  superseded  by  the 
theory  of  daemons,  331.  Theory 
that  the    writings   of  the  Stoi  J 


INDEX. 


403 


8TB 

■were  influenced  by  Christianity 
examined,  332.  Domitian's  per- 
secution of  them,  432 

Strozzi,  Philip,  his  suicide,  ii.  56 

Suffering,  a  courageous  endurance  of, 
probably  the  first  form  of  virtue 
in  savage  life,  i.  130 

Suicide,  attitude  adopted  by  Pagan 
philosophy  and  Catholici-m  to- 
■wards,  i.  211,  ct  scq.  Eminent 
suicides,  215.  Epidemic  of  suicides 
.It  Alexandria,  216.  And  of  girls 
at  Miletus,  216,  note.  Grandeur 
of  the  Sioical  ideal  of  suicide,  216. 
Influences  conspiring  towards  sui- 
cide,2  17.  Seneca  on  self-destruc- 
tion, 217,  218,  220.  Laws  respect 
ing  it,  218,  note.  Eminent  in- 
stances of  self-destruction,  219, 
221.  The  con?eption  of,  as  an 
euthanasia,  221.  Neoplatonist 
doctrine  concerning,  3'1.  Eifect 
of  the  Christian  condemnation  of 
the  practice  of,  ii.  43-61.  Theo- 
logical doctrine  on,  45,  note.  The 
only  form  of,  permitted  in  the 
early  Church,  47.  Slow  suicides, 
48.  TheCivcumcelliones,  49.  The 
Albigenses,  49.  Suicides  of  the 
Jews,  50.  Treatment  of  corpses 
of  suicides,  60.  Authorities  for 
the  history  of  suicides,  50,  note. 
Reaction  against  the  medireval 
laws  on  the  subject,  51.  Later 
phasesof  its  history,  54.  Self-de- 
struction of  witches.  54.  Epide- 
mics of  insane  suicide,  65.  Cases 
of  legitimate  suicide,  55.  Suicitle 
in  England  and  France,  58 

Sundaj',  importance  of  the  sanctity 
of  the,  ii.  211.  Laws  respecting 
it,  245 

Bnpersrition,  possibility  of  adding  to 
the  happiness  of  man  by  the  dif- 
fusion of,  i.  50-53.  Natural  causes 
v.hich  impel  savages  to  supersti- 
tion, i.  65.  Signification  of  the 
Greek  word  for.  205 


THE 

Swan,  tlie.eonsecrated  to  Apollo,i.  206 
Sweden,  cause  of  the  great  number 

of  illegitimate  births  in,  i.  144 
Swinburne,  Mr.,  on  annihilation,    ».. 

182,  note 
Symmachus,  his  Saxon  prisoners,  i. 

287 
Syncsius.   legend   of  him  and  Evrv- 

grius,  ii.  214.     Keluses  t;  give  op 

his  wife,  332 
Syracuse,    gladiatoi-ial   shows   at^    i 

275 

TACITUS,   his   doubts   about  the 
existence  of  ProA^dence,  i.  171, 

7iote 
Telemachus,  the  monk,  his  death  in 

the  arena,  ii.  37 
Telesphorus,  martyrdom  of,  i.  446, 

note 
Tertia  .^Emilia,  story  of,  ii.  313 
TertuUian,  his  belief  in  d;emons,  i. 

382.   And  challenge  to  the  Pagans, 

383 
Testament,    Old,  supposed  to  have 

been  tlie  source  of  pagan  writings, 

i.  344 
Thalasius,  his  hospital  for  blind  beg- 
gars, ii.  81 
Theatre,  scepticism  of  the  Romans 

extended  by  the,  i.    170.     Effects 

of  the  gladiatorial  shows  upon  the, 

277 
Theft,  reasons  why  some  savages  do 

not  regard  it  as  criminal,  i.  102. 

Spartan  law  legalising  it,  102 
Tlieodeliert.  his  polygamy,  ii.  343 
Theodoric,  his  court  at  Ravenna,  ii. 

201,  202,  note 
Thftodorus,  his  denial  of  tlie  exist- 
ence of  the  gods,  i.  162 
Thcodorus,   St.,   his   inhumanity  to 

his  mother,  ii.  128 
Thoodosius  the   Emperor,  his  edict 

forbidding  gladi.itori.il  shows,  ii. 

36.     Penouiiced  by  th?  Ascetics, 
139.     His  law  respecting  Sunday 

245 


^04 


INDEX. 


THE 

Theological  utilitarianism,  theories 
of,  i.  14-17 

Theology,  sphere  of  inductive  rea- 
soning in,  357 

Theou,  St.,  legend  of,  and  the  wild 
beasts,  ii.  168 

Theurgy  rejected  by  Plotinus,  i.  330. 
All  moral  discipline  resolved  into, 
by  lamblichus,  330 

Thrace,  celibacy  of  societies  of  men 
in,  i.  106 

Thrasea,  mildness  of  his  Stoicism,  i. 
245 

Thrasea  and  Aria,  history  of,  ii.  31 1 

Thriftiness  created  by  tlic  industrial 
spirit,  i.  140 

Tiberius  the  Emperor,  liis  images 
invested  with  a  sacred  character, 
i.  260.  His  superstitions,  367, 
and  note 

Timagenes,  exiled  from  the  palace 
Viy  Tiberius,  i.  448,  n<)te 

Titus,  the  Emperor,  his  tranquil 
end,  i.  207.  Instance  of  his 
amiability,  287 

Touth-powder,  Apuleius'  defence  of, 
ii.  148 

Torments,  future,  the  doctrine  of, 
made  by  the  monks  a  means  of 
extorting  money,  ii.  216.  Monas- 
tic legentis  of,  220 

Tragedy,  effects  of  the  gladiatorial 
shows  upon,  among  the  liomans,  i. 
277 

Trajan,  the  Emperor,  his  gladiatorial 
shows,  i.  287.  Letter  of  Pliny  to, 
respecting  the  Christians,  "4,')7. 
Trajan's  answer,  437.  His  benevo- 
lence to  children,  ii.  77.  Legend 
of  St.  Gregory  and  the  Emperor, 
223 

Transmigration  of  souls,  doctrine  of, 
of  the  ancients,  ii.  160 

rravcliiiig,  increased  facilities  for, 
of  llie  Romans,  i.  234 

Trinitarian  monks,  their  works  of 
mercv  ii.  73 


VAR 

Troubadours,  one  of  their  services  ta 
mankind,  ii.  232 

'  Truce  of  God,'  importance  of  the, 
ii.  254 

Truth,  possibility  of  adding  to  the 
happiness  of  men  by  ditlusinc: 
abroad,  or  sustaining,  pleasing 
falsehoods,  i.  52.  Saying  of  Pytha- 
goras, 63.  Growth  of,  with  civili- 
sation, 137.  Industrial,  political, 
and  philosophical,  137-140.  Rela- 
tion of  monachism  to  the  abstract 
love  of  truth,  ii.  189.  Causes  of 
tlie  mediaeval  decline  of  the  lovo 
of  truth,  212 

Tucker,  his  adoption  of  the  doctrine 
of  the  association  of  ideas,  i.  26, 
note 

Turks,  their  kindness  to  animals,  i. 
289 

Types,  moral,  i.  156.  All  charac- 
ters cannot  be  moulded  in  one 
type,  158 


ULPIAN  on  suicide,  i.  218,  note 
Unselfishntss  of  the  Stoics,  i. 
177 

Usury,  diversities  of  moral  judg- 
ment respecting,  i.  92 

Utilitarian  school.  See  Morals; 
Virtue ;  Vice 

Utility,  rival  claims  of,  and  intuition 
to  be  regarded  as  the  supreme 
regulators  of  moral  distinctions,  i. 
1,  2.  Various  nanus  by  which 
the  theory  of  utility  is  known,  3. 
Views  of  the  moralisis  of  the 
sclioid  of,  3,  et  scq. 

TTALERIAN,  his  persecutions   of 
V       tlio  Christians,  i.  454 
Vah'rius  Maximus,  his  mode  of  moral 

teaching,  i.  174 
Vandals,  their  conquest  of  Aft-ica,  ii 

150 
Varro,  lis  conception  of  the  Uei'y, 


INDEX. 


405 


VEN 

i.    163.     On  popular  religious  be- 
liefs, 167 

V^enus,  effect  of  the  Greek  -worship 
of.  on  the  condition  of  women,  ii. 
291, 7iote 

V^espasian,  his  dj-ing  jest,  i.  259. 
Effect  of  his  frugality  fin  the 
habits  of  the  Komans,  292. 
Miracle  attributed  to  him,  347. 
His  treatment  of  philosophers, 
448,  note 

Vice,  Mandeville's  theory  of  the 
origin  of,  i.  7.  And  that '  private 
vices  were  public  benefits,'  7. 
Views  of  the  Utilitarians  as  to, 
12.  The  degrees  of  virtue  and 
vice  do  not  correspond  to  the 
degrees  of  utility,  or  the  reverse, 
40-42.  The  suffering  caused  by 
vice  not  proportioned  to  its  crimi- 
nality, 57-59.  Plato's  ethical 
theory  of  virtue  and  vice,  179. 
Grote's  summary  of  this  theory, 
]  79,  7iote.  Conception  of  the 
ancients  of  sin,  195.  Moral  effi- 
cacy of  the  Christian  sense  of 
sin,  ii.  3,  4 

iirgil,  his  conception  of  the  Deity, 
i.  163.  His  epicurean  sentiment, 
193,  note.  On  suicide,  213.  His 
interest  in  animal  life,  ii.  165 

Virginity,  how  regarded  by  the 
Greeks,  i.  105.  JEschylus' prayer 
to  Athene,  105.  Bees  and  fire 
emblems  of  virginity,  108,  note. 
Reason  why  the  ancient  Jews  at- 
tached a  certain  stigma  to  vir- 
ginity, 109  Views  of  Essencs, 
109 

Virgins,  Vestal,  sanctity  and  gifts 
attributed  to  the,  i.  106,  107,  and 
fiofe.  Executions  of,  407,  and 
note.  Reasons  for  burying  them  • 
alive,  ii.  41.  How  regarded  by 
the  Romans,  297 

Virtue,  Hume's  theory  of  the  crite- 
rion, essential  element,  and  object 
of,  i.  4.      Motive   to  virtue   ac- 


VIB 

cording  to  the  doctrine  which 
bases  morals  upon  experience,  6. 
Mandeville's  the  lowest  and 
most  repulsive  form  of  this 
theory,  6,  7.  Views  of  the  essence 
and  origin  of  virtue  adopted  \^y 
the  school  of  Utilitarians,  7-9. 
Views  of  the  Utilitarians  of,  12. 
Association  of  ideas  in  which 
virtue  becomes  the  supreme  object 
of  our  affections,  27.  Impossi- 
bi  lity  of  virtue  bringing  pleasure  if 
practised  only  with  thatend,  35,  36. 
The  utility  of  virtue  not  denied 
by  intuitive  moralists,  39.  The 
degrees  of  virtue  and  vice  do  not 
correspond  to  the  degrees  of 
utility,  or  the  reverse,  53.  The 
rewards  and  punishments  of  con 
science,  59,  60.  The  self-compla- 
cency of  virtuous  men,  64,  65,  and 
note.  The  motive  to  virtue,  ac 
cording  to  Shaftesbury  and  Henry 
More,  76.  Analogies  of  beauty 
and  virtue,  77.     Their  difference, 

78.  Diversities  existing  in  our 
judgments  of  virtue  and  beauty, 

79,  80.  Virtues  to  which  we  can 
and  cannot  apply  the  term  beauti- 
ful, 82.  The  standard,  though 
not  the  essence,  of  virtue,  deter- 
mined by  the  condition  of  society, 
109.  Summary  of  the  relations 
of  virtue  to  public  and  private 
interest,  117-  Emphasis  with 
which  the  utility  of  virtue  was 
dwelt  upon  by  Aristotle,  124. 
Growth  of  the  gentler  virtues, 
132.  Forms  of  the  virtue  of 
truth,  industrial,  political,  and 
philosophical,  137.  Each  stage 
of  civilisation  is  specially  ap- 
propriate if  some  virtue,  147. 
National  virtues,  151.  Virtues, 
naturally  grouped  together  accord- 
ing to  principles  of  affinity  or  con- 
gruity,  153.  Distinctive  beautj 
of  a  moral  type,  154.     Eudimen- 


406 


INDEX. 


vrr 

i&Tj  virtues  diifering  in  different 
nj^os,  nations,  and  classes,  154, 
165.  Four  distinct  motives 
leading  men  to  virtue,  178-180. 
Plato's  fundamentiil  proposition 
that  vice  is  to  virtue  what  disease 
is  to  health,  179.  Stoicism  the 
best  example  of  the  perfect  sever- 
ance of  virtue  and  self-interest, 
]81.  Teachings  of  the  Stoics 
tliat  virtue  should  conceal  itself 
from  the  -world,  186.  And  that 
the  obligation  sliould  be  distin- 
guished from  the  attraction  of 
virtue,  186.  The  eminent  cha- 
racteristics of  p;igan  goodness, 
190.  All  virtues  are  the  same, 
according  to  the  Stoics,  192. 
Horace's  description  of  a  just 
man,  197.  Interested  and  dis- 
interested motives  of  Christianity 
to  virtue,  ii.  3.  Decline  of  the 
ci\-ic  virtues  caused  by  asceticism, 
139.  Influence  of  this  change  on 
monil  philosophy,  146.  The  im- 
portance of  the  civic  ■virtues  ex- 
aggerated by  historians,  147. 
Intellectual  virtues,  188.  Rela- 
tion of  monachism  to  these  vir- 
tues, 189,  et  seq. 

^italius,  St.,  legend  of,  and  the 
courtesan,  ii.  320 

Vivisection,  ii.  176.  Approved  V>y 
Bacon,  176,  note 

\"olcanofS,  how  regarded  by  the 
early  monks,  ii.  221 

Vultures,  why  made  an  emblem  of 
nature  by  tiie  Egyptians,  i.  1(I8, 
note 


WAR.  its  moral  grandeur,  i.  95. 
The  school  of  the  heroic  vir- 
tues, 173.  Difference  between 
foreign  and  civil  wars,  232.  An- 
tipathy of  the  early  Christians  to 
a  military  life,  ii.  248.  Belief  in 
battle  being  the  special  sphere  of 


WOM 

Providential  interposition,  24?. 
Effects  of  the  military  triumphs 
of  the  Mohammedans,  251.  In- 
fluences of  Christianity  upon  war 
considered,  254.  Improved  con- 
dition of  captives  taken  in  war, 
256 

Warburton,  on  morals,  i.  15,  note, 
17,  note 

Waterland,  on  the  motives  to  virtue 
and  cause  of  our  love  of  God, 
quoted,  i.  9,  note,  15,  note 

Wealth,  origin  of  the  desire  to  pos- 
sess, i.  23.  Associations  leading 
to  the  desire  for,  for  its  own  sake, 
25 

Western  Empire,  general  sketch  of 
the  moral  condition  of  the.  ii.  14 

Widows,  care  of  the  early  Church 
for,  ii.  366 

Will,  freedom  of  the  human,  sus- 
fciined  and  deepened  by  the  asce- 
tic life,  ii.  123 

Wine,  forbidden  to  women,  i.  93, 
94,  note 

Witchcraft,  belief  in  the  reality  of, 
i.  363.  Suicide  common  among 
witches,  ii.  54 

Wollaston,  his  analysis  of  moral 
judgments,  i,  76 

Women,  law  of  the  Romans  forbid- 
ding women  to  taste  wine,  i.  93, 
94,  7tote.  Stindards  of  female 
morality  of  the  Jews,  Greeks,  and 
Romans,  103,  104.  Virtues  and 
vices  growing  out  of  the  relations 
of  the  sexes,  143.  Female  virtue, 
143.  Efi'ects  of  climate  on  this 
virtue,  144.  Of  large  towns,  146. 
And  of  early  marriages,  143. 
Reason  for  Plato's  advocacy  of 
community  of  wives,  200.  Plu 
tarch's  high  sense  of  female  excel- 
lence, 244.  Female  g]adiat<;rs  at 
Rome,  281,  and  vote.  Relations  of 
female  devotees  with  tlie  anchor- 
ites, ii.  120, 128.  150.  Their  condi- 
I        tion  in  savage  life,  276.     Cesea- 


INDEX, 


407 


WOM 

tion  of  the  sale  of  -wnves,  27P. 
Rise  of  the  dowry,  277.  Estab- 
lishment of  monogamy,  278. 
Doctrine  of  the  Fathers  as  to 
concupiscence,  281.  Nature  of 
the  problem  of  the  relations  of  the 
sexes,  282.  Prostitution,  282- 
284.  Eecognition  in  Greece  of 
two  distinct  orders  of  woman- 
hood— the  wife  and  the  hetaei-a, 
287.  Condition  of  Eoman  women, 
297,  et  scq.  Legal  emancipation 
of  women  in  Rome,  304.  Un- 
bounded liberty  of  divorce,  306. 
Amount  of  female  virtue  in  Im- 
perial Rome,  308-312.  Legisla- 
tive measures  to  repress  sensu- 
ality, 312.  To  enforce  the  reci- 
procity of  obligation  in  marriage, 
312.  And  to  censure  prostitu- 
tion, 315.  Influence  of  Chris- 
tianity on  the  position  of  women, 
316,  et  seq.  Marriages,  320. 
Second  marriages,  324.  Low 
opinion  of  women,  prodiiced  by 
asceticism,  338.  The  canon  law 
unfavourable  to  their  prop i"ietary 
rights,  338,  339.  Barbarian 
heroines  and  laws,  341-344. 
Doctrine  of  equality  of  obligation 
in  marriage,  346.  The  duty  of 
man  towards  woman,  347.  Con- 
demnation of  transitory  connec- 
tions, 350.  Roman  concubines, 
351.  The  sinfulness  of  divorce 
maintained  by  the  Church,  350- 


ZEU 

353.  Abolition  of  compulsory 
marriages,  353.  Condemnation 
of  mixed  marriages,  353,  354. 
Education  of  women,  355.  Rela- 
tion of  Christianity  to  the  female 
virtues,  358.  Comparison  of  male 
and  female  characteristics,  358. 
The  Pagan  and  Christian  ideal 
of  woman  contrasted,  361-363. 
Conspicuous  part  of  woman  in 
the  early  Church,  363-365.  Care 
of -widows,  o67.  Worship  of  tlie 
Virgin,  368,  369.  Effect  of  the 
suppression  of  the  conventual 
system  on  women,  369.  Revolu- 
tion going  on  in  the  employments 
of  women,  373 


XENOCRATES,    his    tenderness, 
ii.  163 
Xenophanes,  his  scepticism,  i.  162 
Xenophon,   his  picture    of    Greek 
married  life,  ii.  288 


ZADOK,  the  founder  of  the  Saddu- 
cees,  i.  183,  note 
Zeno,  vast  place  occupied  by  his 
system  in  the  moral  history  of 
man,  i.  171.  His  suicide,  212. 
His  inculcation  of  the  pi'actice  of 
self-examination,  248 
Zeus,  universal  providence  attri- 
buted by  the  Greeks  to,  i.  161 


THE      END. 


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